Distance
by Riverstyxx
Summary: Separation was never a concept Cynder thought to fear, until Spyro was dragged to the other side of the realms by a duty to dragonkind. Now she is left to wonder if their courtship will even survive this time apart. [Post-DotD] [SpyCy]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: There are times when you just need to drop everything and write. A month or two ago, that's exactly what I did, and this story is the result. This site really needs a Slice-of-Life genre tag, because that's pretty much what this story is. I fully expect that not everyone will be interested in a story of this genre, since it lacks the harsh excitement of most Spyro fanfics, but for all the SpyCy/romance lovers out there, this is for you.**

**This story is in no way related to any of my other stories. ****I'll update a chapter a day until it's done (yes, this story is entirely finished). I hope you enjoy the ride. :]**

**Please note: This story is rated M for _inexplicit_ scenes of a sexual nature, and sexual references. No extreme violence or harsh language.**

* * *

**Distance**

**1**

A week.

A whole week had passed since the end of the war; since Malefor's demise. Cynder sat alone on the eastern-facing balcony of the Temple of Warfang. It was small compared to the old Dragon Temple now destroyed by Malefor, but it was no less grand. Like the rest of the city it had suffered some damage from the war, but its placement in the very centre of Warfang had spared it the worst.

The open balcony afforded Cynder a view of the eastern section of the city, over the tops of squat sandstone buildings and between the majestic walls of high-standing skyscrapers towards the lip of the eastern wall, which was just barely visible on the horizon. Even as she watched, the sky above the wall began to lighten with the glow of the rising sun. Like a wave of fire, it crept across the sandstone buildings and turned them almost gold. The last stars in the sky faded, and Cynder closed her eyes with a sigh.

It was hard to believe only a week had passed since that fated battle with Malefor. She could not reconcile with herself that the war was over. These days of peace seemed strange and awkward. All her life she had been fighting; all her life she had wrestled against the tides of war and struggled in the iron grip of a master who had stolen all freedom of choice away from her.

What was she now if not a fighter in a war or a puppet to a master?

This peace was a strange thing. It seemed as though nothing was expected of her any longer, and yet she could not help but expect things of herself. What was she supposed to do now?

In truth, Cynder did not fully understand why she was still alive at all. For that moment, in the wake of Malefor's demise, she had truly believed her end had come. But life had not ended. She recalled strange memories, if they could be called that—a warm embrace, a void of light and darkness, gentle smiles and guiding paws—and then she had awoken in Warfang, surrounded by the Guardians.

They'd had no explanation for how she and Spyro had survived, but Volteer had firmly clung to the belief that the ancestors had played a part.

"They gave you a second chance," he'd said. "A chance to live the lives you'd been denied."

Even Spyro hadn't been able to explain it, but he'd said something strange when he'd awoken. He thought he'd met them—the ancestors; said that they'd stood around him in the stars and spoken of things he hadn't fully understood. He'd only told Cynder and wisely refrained from mentioning it to Volteer or Cyril, as he had been certain it would set them both off on some sort of tangent.

Cynder couldn't help but smile. Spyro knew them so well; she could easily imagine the two old guardians doing just that. A moment later, the smile withered and fell from her face. She snorted softly and opened her eyes to watch the sun rise.

It had also been a week since she had last spent any good amount of time with Spyro. In a way, it was hard to figure out who was avoiding whom. She hadn't meant to avoid him; it had just happened somehow. Every time she saw him, those traitorous words she'd said would come creeping back to make her cringe, and before she knew it, she'd started evading him without really thinking about it.

This made for particularly lonely days. The Guardians seemed too busy to offer company, and she had never been completely comfortable around them regardless. The citizens of Warfang were, for the most part, friendly enough. Cynder still felt the tension in the air and caught the anxious glances thrown her way by those who still remembered what she'd once been, but hers was a past that went largely unspoken of. Nobody seemed to want to remember it, least of all her. But nor did they seem to want to have anything to do with her, and she found herself feeling likewise.

Without Spyro, she found herself very alone indeed. At least Sparx seemed to have warmed up to her, but he still called her 'Terror' whenever he got the chance—and he was more often around Spyro, anyway.

Caught up in her lonely musings, Cynder didn't notice the footsteps until they were right behind her. Suddenly aware of a presence at her back, she jumped up and whirled around. She had never really lost that reflex, and she doubted she ever would. But as her pounding heart began to slow, she found herself gazing into the face of the purple dragon himself.

Spyro looked somewhat anxiously bemused. For a moment, Cynder could only stare at him and he stared back, his mouth half-open. Sparx was nowhere to be seen; he was likely still sleeping, given the time of morning.

"I...saw you from the hallway," Spyro said haltingly, shifting his paws in what was almost a nervous gesture. Cynder couldn't fathom why he would be nervous around her.

"I was just watching the sunrise," she said, relaxing her stance and inwardly cursing herself for being so highly strung. "Were you going down for breakfast?"

"Y...yeah." He shuffled his paws again, averting his eyes for a split second before glancing back at her.

There was something so very awkward about his actions that Cynder found herself doing the same. A very stiff silence followed, in which she cursed herself again and tried to think of something to break the ice. But those words were back again, repeating in her head, mocking her and taunting her with a memory she wished she could banish. How could she have said something so stupid?

"Have you...been avoiding me?"

Cynder flinched and snapped her gaze back up to meet his, wide-eyed. He was looking at her with an expression caught between worry and hurt. Her heart sank and she found herself unable to hold his gaze. "I..."

Spyro's paw shifted, as though he had been about to step closer but had thought better of it. "Is it something I did? I'm...I'm really sorry, if it is. If you tell me, maybe I can..."

"It wasn't, Spyro," she said quickly, wincing. The last thing she wanted was to make him think he'd wronged her somehow. If anything, it was the other way around. Cynder sighed. "It's about something I did—or...something I _said_."

For a moment, Spyro just looked more bemused. Then an expression of sudden understanding washed over his face and his eyes widened, his mouth opening slightly. Cynder cringed and looked away, waiting for his inevitable reaction.

"Oh. I-I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but I just..." His pawsteps edged a little closer. "I didn't know what to say. I thought I might have dreamed it first, but... Well, I guess I should ask—did you mean it?"

He was close enough now that she could almost feel his warmth—the warmth of another body on a cold morning. Opening her eyes, Cynder looked up at him. He was hardly an inch taller than her, and for a moment they stood muzzle to muzzle. She took a step back, her face burning both with shame and embarrassment.

"I don't know, Spyro. I was...scared." She shook her head and met his eyes squarely, daring herself not to look away no matter how much she wanted to. "I thought we were going to die there, I really did. And I...I just wanted you to know how grateful I was towards you, and how much you meant to me. You've done more for me than anyone. I just...wanted you to know that in our final moments."

Cynder bowed her head, unable to keep his gaze. "I didn't think we would survive. I didn't think I'd actually have to worry about saying...those words. But..."

She clenched her jaw, wishing she knew the words she wanted to say.

"I love you?" Spyro asked, and she flinched.

She whipped her head up, half-formed apologies or excuses on her tongue—she wasn't sure which—but found him smiling gently at her.

"Do you?" he asked.

"I..." A warm shiver travelled down her spine and she found herself momentarily lost for words. Did she? "I care about you, Spyro. You've done so much for me and I want to see you happy. But...what I really want is to know you better. I want to spend time with you, and be your friend. I want to know what it's like to be a friend."

She gazed up at him, begging him to understand, and before her eyes, his expression seemed to melt with relief. He gave a kind of shy smile and a small laugh that made her sinking heart lift in her chest. "That's...kind of a relief, actually."

Cynder sat up a little straighter. "Oh?"

Spyro smiled wider, a kind of sheepish grin that made him all the more endearing. "I think I might have been avoiding you too, without really thinking about it."

He stepped up to the balcony to gaze out over the city and she turned to stand beside him.

"I didn't know what to say to you, see," he continued slowly. "Whether I should just try to ignore what you'd said, as though I hadn't heard, or if I should give you an answer. Ignoring it seemed wrong, but I didn't know how to answer, so being around you was kind of..."

"Awkward?" Cynder offered, smirking as her apprehension drained away.

Spyro grinned. "Yeah, something like that. I don't really know what 'love' is, you know. My parents—well, Sparx's parents, I guess—used to tell me they loved me, and I understood that, but... I guess what I mean to say is that I want to get to know you better too. I've kind of...missed you this week."

A gentle smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "Guess we've both been kind of stupid, huh? I missed you too. It's been really lonely..."

"I wish I could say the same, but Sparx never stops talking." He chuckled softly, and the last of the ice between them melted away.

Cynder found herself grinning unabashedly. "Yeah, I didn't miss him as much. Have you ever tried locking him and Volteer in the same room? I bet they could talk each other to sleep."

Spyro snorted with laughter and, almost inconspicuously, leant in until their shoulders brushed together. "Y-yeah, maybe we should try that some time, see who falls asleep first."

As though she had meant to do it all along, Cynder found herself leaning into him in turn, relishing the warmth of his scales against hers. "I think _you_ would if you tried to watch."

Their chuckles filled the air and slowly drifted into silence, but this silence was both warm and comfortable. It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her chest, and she felt a little silly for avoiding him this entire week. All she'd done was make it more awkward, and yet it had been fixed so easily. But there was no use dwelling on it any longer.

"So...we're friends?" she asked tentatively, glancing sideways at him.

Spyro beamed. "Yeah. Yeah, we are."

Warmth bloomed in her chest and she gazed out over the city, her heart lighter than it had ever been. Everything was right with the world.

* * *

Cynder groaned and opened her eyes, no longer able to convince her mind that she wasn't ready to wake up yet. A sparsely furnished room illuminated by the dim light of the rising sun met her gaze, and she rolled onto her back with a sigh. The sandstone ceiling was likewise washed in morning light, illuminating the hair-thin cracks and other impurities that marred the golden stone. By now, Cynder could trace the familiar patterns on the ceiling almost with her eyes closed—she had stared at them long enough to know where each began and each ended.

Stretching her leaden limbs towards the ceiling with a groan, Cynder closed her eyes and tried to remember the memory she'd been replaying in her head in an attempt to fall asleep again. It hadn't worked, but she smiled when she remembered what it was—the moment when it all had started, when she and Spyro had spoken on the balcony that week after Malefor's defeat. The moment when they had become friends. The moment that had led to what they shared now.

It was hard to believe that had been so many months ago.

The smile fell from her face and Cynder rolled onto her side, gazing with glazed eyes at the empty room and the spare cushions scattered across the floor. Spyro used those whenever he slept beside her. Another sigh left her lips and she pushed herself up, stretching her wings as she gazed towards the tall window to the right. Morning light streamed through, and she could see the tops of Warfang's golden sandstone buildings spreading towards the horizon.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since Spyro had left. Two weeks since he had last held her in his wings. Two weeks since she had heard his laugh, seen his smile, and felt his warmth. Two weeks without him.

It felt like two months.

Getting to her feet, Cynder nudged her sleeping cushions out of her way and padded to the window, glancing at the bookshelf as she passed. Since he had left, she had tried to keep herself occupied with reading, but her wandering mind had not let her concentrate and she'd given up. Now the books, scrolls and tomes lay abandoned on their stone shelves, likely gathering dust.

With a shake of her head, Cynder stepped up to the window and gazed out over the city. It was still early morning, so the streets were largely void of life; most dragons were still sleeping peacefully on their cushions, yet unaware of the breaking dawn. Cynder wished she was one of them.

It had been two weeks, and she still had no word of Spyro and his whereabouts. He'd promised he would write to her if he found a way, and she was certain he would, but who knew how long it took to fly to the northern temple? She only hoped Cyril knew the way and wouldn't get the two of them—or three, counting Sparx—lost. But surely two weeks should have been enough time.

What if something had happened to him? She shuddered to think of it, but as she gazed out over the city, only half taking in the view, she couldn't get that sickening thought out of her head. If something had happened to him out there... If the last of Malefor's forces hadn't disappeared along with him as they had previously thought... If Spyro hadn't even made it to the northern temple... She didn't want to think about it.

"Stop it," she snapped, shaking her head roughly in an attempt to rid the thoughts. "He's fine. Spyro is fine."

Maybe he just hadn't found a way to send her a letter yet. Cynder sighed and sat down, resting her head on the windowsill. Hopefully he found a way soon. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. All she wanted to know was that he was okay. Even a single word...

For some time, Cynder merely sat there and gazed out over Warfang, watching the sun crawl higher with agonising slowness. She didn't know what else to do but wait for word from Spyro, if it would ever come. It was silly, she told herself, to feel so hopeless without him, but she couldn't shake the feeling. With him gone, it was like something was missing—a part of her.

Eventually, Cynder realised her stomach was grumbling and forced herself to her feet. There was no use starving herself; that wouldn't help anything. With another glance at the waking city, she turned around and padded across the room to the door. It was a large round door, not unlike the ones at the old Dragon Temple, and could only be opened by a dragon. Cynder snorted a tiny puff of shadow-smoke onto the glossy round gem in the doorframe, and it turned quickly from white to black.

The door creaked open, the gem faded slowly back to white, and Cynder was just about to step through when a soft shriek stopped her in her tracks. Startled, she whipped her head around, scanning her room for the source. Something moved near the window and she almost jumped when she saw it. It was a bird—a sleek, grey-brown creature about as big as one of her forelegs—and it was sitting on her windowsill.

She stared, and it called again—a high-pitched trill that was more musical than irritating. Curious, Cynder turned and approached it, ignoring the door as it shut behind her. As she got closer, she saw the bird was clutching something in its talons, trapping it against the windowsill. It looked like a roll of parchment. Cynder's heart leapt into her throat. Could it be...?

She quickly closed the distance between herself and the window, and the bird lifted its claw as though offering the parchment to her. Her paw shaking, she reached out and took the scroll from its talons. It clicked its beak and retracted its foot, ruffling its feathers in a manner that struck Cynder as proud.

Her paws were trembling so much it was hard to open the scroll, but she quickly found the wax seal and broke it with a claw. The parchment began to unroll, and she helped it along with as much restraint as she could manage. It had to be. It just had to be.

Her eyes fell upon the first word scrawled upon the parchment, and her heart lifted as though it had grown wings.

_Cynder_

It was addressed to her. It was his writing. It was a letter from Spyro.

She could have melted with relief, but instead she read on.

_We finally made it to the northern temple. I can't believe how long it took us to get here! For a while I thought we'd be flying forever, but Cyril insisted we'd get there. Thank the ancestors he was right. Nine days, Cynder! My wings still feel like they're about to fall off. You should have heard Sparx complaining, and _he_ rested on my head for most of the trip._

_I'm not sure when you'll get this, but I'm writing this on the night after we arrived. We spent most of the day getting acquainted with the wind dragons and their Guardian. They're not a very friendly bunch. They seem really suspicious of us, even of Cyril. I don't think the Wind Guardian believed anything he said. If we ever want to bring them back to Warfang with us, I think it's going to take a while to earn their trust._

_I think they're worried I'm going to turn out like Malefor. The Wind Guardian—I think his name is Avgustin; I can't quite remember—flat out refused when Cyril said we were hoping they would give me a lesson in their element. I don't know if he's going to come around, but Cyril seems to think so. He says we just need to gain his trust, but I don't think Avgustin wants anything to do with us._

_At least they were nice enough to loan me this falcon. Her name is Rosemary, and she's one of a whole network of 'carrier-falcons' within the temple. It's more like a city than a temple, really. I think it's almost as big as Warfang._

_I don't know how long it will take to get you this letter, but hopefully not as long as it took us to get here. The wind dragons say their falcons are pretty fast, though. Maybe you can send me a letter back with Rosemary? I'd like that._

_To be honest, I miss you already. I mean, it's nice to get to know Cyril one-on-one, I guess, and to spend more time with Sparx—I think he's been feeling kind of left out since we started courting—but without you here it feels like I'm missing something. I really hope you're not too lonely at Warfang. Like the Guardians said, everyone at Warfang knows you as a hero now, so there's no reason for you to hide away from them. Go out and talk to someone. Maybe you'll make a friend._

_I just don't want to think of you sitting alone in the temple. If I could be there to keep you company, I would, but I can't. I really wish you were here with me. At this rate, it might be a while before I can come home, but I'll still keep my hopes up that I'll see you again soon._

_I think Sparx misses you too, but he won't say it. You know what he's like._

_Hope you're doing well, Cyn. Remember, I love you and I'll come home as soon as I can._

_Spyro_

Cynder stared at his scribbled name, her head spinning with all she had taken in. Then she took a deep breath and read it again. When she was finished, she glanced up to see that the falcon Rosemary was still perched on her windowsill and seemed to be waiting for Cynder to send her on her way, with or without a response.

"Just...give me a moment to write a reply," she said slowly. It felt odd talking to a bird. Rosemary merely cocked her head, but Cynder took that to mean she'd understood.

Standing up, she stumbled over to her bookshelf and scanned it for the scraps of parchment she had lying around. Spotting a roll, she grabbed it, along with a little stone bottle full of ink, and returned to her spot on the floor. She curled the tip of her tail around the quill protruding from the top of the bottle, unrolled the blank parchment beside Spyro's letter, and paused, wondering what to write.

At length, she just decided to start and was surprised by how easily the words came.

_Spyro_

_It's so good to hear from you. I was starting to worry. It's been two weeks since you left now, so I guess it took Rosemary a bit less than a week to get here. The northern temple must be a long way. Is it cold there? I bet Cyril likes it._

_Hopefully you're surviving with only Sparx for company. If it was me, I think I'd have eaten him long ago. Is Cyril any less of a stuffy old windbag now that you've gotten to know him a little more? That Avgustin fellow sounds like a right—well, I won't say it. But I guess we can't blame him for being afraid._

_I'm sure you've got nothing to worry about. If the wind dragons don't already, I'm sure they'll come to trust you soon enough. You're nothing like Malefor. Any dragon with half a brain could see that. You're kind, caring and loyal, and you're the most selfless dragon I know. They'll see it soon too, if they haven't already by the time you get this._

_I wish I had been able to go with you, but it definitely sounds like my presence would have only made things worse. The Guardians were right. The citizens of Warfang might be ready to forget my past, but what about everyone else? If the wind dragons are as untrusting as it sounds, there's no way they'd see me as anything other than the Terror of the Skies. So I guess it's a good thing I didn't come along._

_But I still miss you. I've missed you every day. To be honest, I haven't left my room much since you left. I still don't feel all that comfortable in the streets. Most dragons might be willing to forget, but I don't know if I can face them yet. Maybe I'll try today..._

_Whatever happens, I hope you'll be able to come home soon. It's not the same here without you. And I guess I miss Sparx too, but don't tell him._

_Good luck, Spyro. I love you._

_Cynder_

Sighing, Cynder set the quill down and read over what she'd written. It was satisfactory, at least, though it still didn't seem to say exactly what she wanted to convey. Regardless, she gently exhaled over the ink so help it dry faster, and then rolled the parchment up into a thin scroll. Rosemary ruffled her feathers as though she recognised the action, and Cynder handed the scroll over to her.

"I don't have any wax to seal it, but please take it safely to Spyro," she said as the falcon took the scroll in her talons.

With another shrill call, Rosemary opened her wings and soared out through the open window, disappearing into the cloudy sky above Warfang. Cynder watched until the falcon was out of sight, then turned away and placed the bottle of ink and the quill back on the shelf.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for a response, whenever that would come. It would likely be more than a week, judging from Rosemary's speed. Cynder's heart sank a little. Maybe even another two weeks. She didn't want to have to wait that long.

Shaking her head, she swept the remaining pieces of parchment under one of her cushions and headed for the door again. Part of her was both elated and relieved to have finally heard from Spyro, but the rest of her ached to know that it would be a while before she heard from him again. And even longer before they were together once more.

"This really sucks," she muttered to herself as she stepped out into the corridor and the door slid shut behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

A chill wind blew through the streets as Cynder weaved her way towards the marketplace. Spyro's letter had sparked something in her mind, and she soon realised it was guilt that was twisting her stomach—guilt that he was worried about her, and that she was doing exactly what he feared. Maybe he was right and it would be better to get out among the dragons and speak to someone. At least it might take her mind off Spyro's absence.

So after a short breakfast consisting of a small woodland rodent left over from yesterday's hunt, she headed out of the temple and tried to remember the way to the marketplace. The temple had been empty when she'd eaten, and she could only assume that Terrador and Volteer were either still asleep or long since awake and off tending to their separate duties. Only the Guardians, she and Spyro—and any esteemed visitors to the city, or so Cyril had once said—stayed at the Temple of Warfang. It was somewhat of a lonely place to live.

Hugging her wings tighter against her flanks to ward off the cold breeze, Cynder ducked around a corner and paused. At the end of the street she had turned into was an array of wooden stalls with brightly-coloured fabric awnings. She could see dragons moving to and fro amongst the stalls, but most of the marketplace was blocked from view by the surrounding houses.

Suddenly nervous, Cynder hesitated at the end of the street and looked around. There was no one else nearby, and the only sounds came from the bustling marketplace. Heaving a sigh, Cynder started towards it. It was for Spyro, after all. She was doing this for him.

But she still would have rather been back in her room.

A few dragons turned to look as she stepped out into the courtyard that the marketplace was set up in, and Cynder wanted to melt into the shadows to get out of their gaze. But they merely looked away again or offered her smiles as though in greeting. Feeling strange, Cynder turned to the nearest stall, wondering why she had come here and what she was doing. The Guardians had given her and Spyro a satchel of gems each some time ago—the currency used in Warfang—but Cynder had never seen fit to buy anything.

Nevertheless, she'd taken the satchel with her and it bounced against her flank with every step she took. The least she could do was _look_ at the stalls.

But the first stall she looked at didn't offer anything of particular interest. The mole behind the stall was selling a wide array of dyed fabrics, but though they were pretty, Cynder couldn't fathom what she could possibly use them for. Offering the mole a slightly awkward smile, she moved on.

Though it was early morning, the marketplace was bustling with dragons and moles alike. Cynder found herself jostled to and fro as they headed between stalls, and the calls of merchants and buyers alike filled the air in an almost unbearable din. Keeping her head down, Cynder moved on through the stalls, wondering why she had thought this was a good idea. The marketplace clearly wasn't the right place for socialising.

Regardless, she eyed every store and made a mental note of what they sold, just in case she ever needed something. Jewellery, armour, books, food, bedding, clothing and accessories, and even Spirit Gems—there seemed to be everything one could ever want. At least, every material thing one could ever want. But Cynder didn't particularly want any material items.

She was just considering heading elsewhere to get out of the hustle and bustle when she caught sight of a small store that wasn't quite as colourful as the rest. From the looks of it, the only thing on sale was parchment. Rolls of parchment, leaves of parchment, booklets of parchment, even great big sheets of parchment—all blank and ready to be written on.

Cynder paused. If she was to write to Spyro, and if he was to be gone for a long time, she would need parchment—and probably more ink. Feeling a little less like this had been a waste of time, she pushed through the crowd to the front of the stall and smiled at the little old mole behind it. Her fur was greying and her long head-fur had been pulled into a bun at the back of her head, making her face look even more pointed, but she smiled as warmly as any creature could.

"Hello, dear," the old mole said, her creaky voice almost impossible to hear over the din. "Did you need something?"

All of a sudden, Cynder realised how awkward it was to talk to a complete stranger. She shuffled her paws and glanced around, just to make sure no one was watching and judging her, but they all seemed too busy with their own shopping. Cynder looked back at the mole, her face suddenly hot. "Ah...yes. I need more parchment for...for writing letters."

The mole's wrinkled face seemed to crinkle even further as she smiled. "Friend away from home?"

If possible, it felt like her face got even hotter. Cynder cleared her throat softly, wondering what was wrong with her. "You could say that."

The old mole hummed softly, her smile turning gentle, and she pointed towards two large scrolls on the table in front of her. "I can sell you those two nice rolls for, say...two purple gems."

"Ah..." Cynder hurriedly turned and fished through her satchel with her tail, seeking the right gems. She wasn't sure how much each gem was worth compared to the rest, and least of all what was considered a fair price, but she didn't see any sense in arguing with an old mole when she didn't even know how much to pay in the first place.

Most of the gems inside her satchel were red, but there were some purple, blue and yellow ones as well. All of them were about the size of her paw, and they lacked the shimmering lustre of Spirit Gems. She fished out two purple gems and clumsily placed them on the table. The old mole gathered them in her paws and her face crinkled with a smile again.

"Many thanks, Lady Cynder," she said, tucking the gems into a large sack beside her.

Cynder faltered halfway to placing the rolls of parchment in her satchel. "You...you know me?"

"My dear," said the mole, her dark eyes twinkling, "everyone knows you. You're the companion of our purple saviour, the one they call Spyro. In fact, I have heard rumours that the two of you have been courting. If your letters are for whom I suspect, perhaps those rumours are true, hmm?"

If Cynder's face had felt hot before, now it was burning like fire. She stammered and took a step back, unsure how to answer or if she even should. Why should it matter to the citizens of Warfang what was happening in her personal life? It wasn't like they wanted to announce their courtship publically, and in fact, as far as Cynder knew, so far only Sparx and the Guardians knew the status of their relationship.

"W-well, I..." Before she'd even begun to think up an answer, a loud yell cut through the din of the marketplace and caused her to flinch. She spun around, tense and ready for danger, and spotted a small commotion at a nearby stand. A burly fire dragon was leaning over his stall, yelling at two much smaller dragons. Through all the commotion, Cynder couldn't decipher his words, but she knew at once that she needed to do something.

Feeling almost grateful for the distraction, she called a quick apology to the old mole and darted through the crowd towards the commotion. As she got closer, weaving around the bodies of confused and startled dragons, she saw the two culprits—if they _were_ culprits—were small dragons that looked to be even younger than her. One was a lanky red dragon, thinner and shorter than Spyro, and the other was a little pink dragoness who looked hardly older than a hatchling.

"—it back!" the burly dragon behind the stall was yelling. "You rotten thieves!"

"Ember, just give it back to him!" argued the lanky red dragon, glaring at the pink dragoness.

But her face was the very picture of defiance as she hugged a thin strip of raw meat to her chest and backed away. "No!"

"I'll have you arrested for thievery, you slimy, good-for-nothing—!"

The pink dragoness scowled and, staring the stall owner straight in the face, stuffed the piece of meat into her mouth. He cut himself off, his face frozen in anger as she defiantly chewed and swallowed without ever averting her eyes. The lanky red dragon only gaped, his eyes wide. When she was done, the stall owner drew himself up as though he was about to leap over his stall, which was packed with all manner of meats.

"You thieving little prick, I'll—!"

"Stop." Cynder calmly planted her forepaws on the meat table, placing herself between the angry stall owner and the young dragons.

The burly dragon froze, gazing down at her with surprise painted all over his features. Cynder couldn't help feeling small in his presence, but it was only the slightest twinge of fear and she didn't yield.

"Lady...Lady Cynder," he said, lowering his body slowly. "Forgive me for the ruckus caused, but these hatchlings have—"

"They're only young," Cynder interrupted, meeting his eyes coolly. "It was a tiny scrap of meat. Let her have it and calm your temper."

His face twitched and a scowl twisted his features. "With all due respect, this is my business. I'm not going to let any rotten thieves get away with stealing my produce. How do you expect me to make a living? I could have those two arrested by the Guard this instant."

Cynder clenched her jaw and glanced behind her. The lanky red dragon was now standing protectively beside the pink dragoness, who was still looking defiant but decidedly less confident, and she was struck by the thought that they had to be siblings. But what the stall owner had said made sense, regardless of what her emotions told her.

Suddenly aware of a whole crowd of dragons and moles watching to see what she would do, Cynder felt her stomach churn with nerves as she turned back to the stall owner. He was still scowling and looked to be daring her to argue, and Cynder got the feeling that he knew he was in the right. Her scales prickling with unease, she reached her tail into her satchel and pulled out a blue gem.

"Will that cover it?" she asked, placing it on the table in front of him.

His eyes widened. "This is... Lady Cynder, there's no need to cover for these two brats—"

"Just take the gem," she said sharply, scowling. "I'll deal with them."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned away and stalked over to the defiant pair. She didn't even say a word, but they followed her without question when she beckoned with her tailblade and made her way back through the crowd. They parted to let her and her small entourage through, their whispers and stares following her until she had turned the corner out of the marketplace.

Once in the empty street, Cynder heaved a sigh and leant against the wall. Was going outside always this eventful? Her scales prickled and she turned to find the two young dragons staring at her with something akin to awe. She shuffled her paws and wondered what to say, but the red dragon beat her to it.

"You," he said slowly, "are awesome."

Startled, Cynder opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure how to respond. Eventually she just sighed and shook her head. "Whatever you say. What were you two doing stealing from that dragon, anyway?"

"I wasn't stealing," the red dragon protested. "I was trying to stop _her_ from!"

The pink dragoness sniffed and lifted her head defiantly. "He's a big meanie and he deserved it. He's always trying to raise the price so we can't buy what mum wants us to. I hate it!"

"That doesn't mean you can just go and steal his stuff!" the red dragon argued, bristling. "And then you just went and ate it! What the hell?"

"Alright, that'll do," Cynder interrupted, glaring from one to the other. "Are you brother and sister? Where are your parents? I assume you're refugees from Terra Firma."

"Yeah." The red dragon nodded. "I'm Flame and this is my sis, Ember. Our mum sent us out to buy meat like always, but Em decided to be stupid and—"

"_You're_ stupid!"

"I wasn't the one who tried to steal meat in plain view!"

"I wanted him to see me do it!"

"That defeats the purpose!"

Cynder sighed and looked the siblings over, at a loss for what else to do. Flame was thin and lanky, with bright red scales and golden horns not unlike Spyro's. He looked to be a year or two younger than her, but already well out of his hatchling stage. Ember, on the other paw, looked to be caught somewhere between hatchling and young adolescent. She was still somewhat pudgy, as though she had yet to lose all of her baby fat, and she was shorter than Flame by about a head. Her pearly pink scales were the strangest colour Cynder had seen on a dragon yet.

They could only be refugees from the underground earth camp Terra Firma, which had been discovered some few months ago following the end of the war. Hundreds of dragons had hidden there during the war, and some eggs had even been laid and hatched there. Cynder assumed Flame and Ember were among those.

"It doesn't matter," she said loudly, interrupting their argument. "Just don't steal again and I won't have to save you from being arrested by the Guards."

Flame snorted. "Yeah, I didn't plan on it, as long as _this one_ doesn't try to."

Ember only huffed and turned away, a pout twisting her features. Despite herself, Cynder felt a smile tug at her mouth. She turned to leave and felt a strange pang of disappointment as she did so. "Just stay out of trouble."

"Hey, wait!" Flame called, stopping her in her tracks. He scurried to her side and Cynder looked down at him, surprised. He flashed a grin. "It's not every day you get saved by one of the saviours of the world. Like, seriously, I'm a _huge_ fan. You are so much more awesome in person. Seriously, the way you stood up to that guy—and he was like three times your size!"

"You're gushing, Flame," Ember sang, prancing over to them.

Flame shot her a glare. "Like you can talk, princess. Who was the one who wanted Spyro to 'sweep her off her paws'?"

Cynder glanced from one sibling to the other, bemused, as Ember's pink scales turned fuchsia across her muzzle.

"I was only a hatchling then!" she yelped.

"So, like, a few months ago?" Flame smirked and Ember ground her teeth together with an audible crunching sound.

Before Cynder could even begin to ask, Ember went on in a haughty voice. "Besides, I think it's clear that the purple saviour has somebody _else_ in his life, hmm?"

She glanced slyly at Cynder as she said so, and Cynder felt her face heat up yet again. She opened her mouth to respond, but Flame beat her to it.

"Hey, yeah..." he said, seeming suddenly interested. "Are the rumours true? Like, are you and Spyro actually courting?"

Cynder coughed and looked away, feeing uneasy. Why did everyone insist on prying? It wasn't like her personal relationships had anything to do with them. "What's it to you?"

"So that's a yes?"

She could almost hear the grin in Flame's voice. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she turned around, bristling with annoyance. "Fine, yes. We're courting. Happy?"

Ember cooed and Flame smirked in a kind of self-satisfied way. Feeling less than pleased, Cynder turned away and started back towards the temple. She'd had enough of being 'sociable' for one day, especially if all anyone was going to do was pry into her personal life.

"Ah, wait," Flame said, scurrying after her again. "Isn't Spyro, like, away? They say he might be gone for months. Isn't that, you know, hard? Or did you stop courting when he left?"

Cynder bristled with a sudden rush of indignant anger and she whirled on the younger dragon. "Of course we're still courting! Why should it matter how far away he is?"

Flame shrank back looking frightened. "S-sorry, I just... That's gotta be hard, though, right? Not being with him, I mean. I know I wouldn't like it if I was courting someone."

With a snort, Cynder turned away and walked on. "It's manageable."

She said no more, and Flame and Ember didn't follow her again. In silence, she weaved through the streets back to the temple, feeling worse than before. Flame was right, of course. It was harder than she'd ever imagined it would be. Even when she'd argued with the Guardians to be allowed to accompany Spyro, she hadn't realised how difficult being without him would be.

A part of her wished she had argued harder, but she knew it would have been folly. They'd had their reasons, after all.

* * *

"But why?" Cynder demanded, slamming her paws down on Terrador's desk. "We've always been through these things together! Why now do I have to stay behind? Why now when we're...we're...?"

She faltered, glancing sideways at Spyro pleadingly, unable to say the words she wanted to. He looked just as stricken as she did, but she saw in his eyes that he didn't want to argue with the Guardians. It made her sick to her stomach. Why wouldn't he argue for her sake? Did he want to be away from her for so long?

Terrador heaved a sighed and shook his huge head. "Forgive me, Cynder, I understand this is hard for both of you, but you must understand. The wind dragons are a guarded race. They fled from the borders of the known Dragon Realms during Malefor's original reign hundreds of years ago, in fear and shame for having helped train him in the ways of their element. They have refused to return ever since, even when we sent envoys pleading for their assistance in our time of need. I have no doubt that the stories of the Terror of the Skies will have reached their northern homeland. If we are to make peace with them, your presence may do more harm than good."

"But I'm not her any longer!" Cynder argued, her blood boiling with anger and frustration. But it was not just those emotions fuelling her outburst. Somewhere inside her, she felt it—a creeping fear like a ball of ice in her stomach. Fear that she would lose the only thing she'd ever cared about. "Spyro knows that! You know that!"

"But the wind dragons do not!" Cyril cut in.

Cynder flinched and glanced over to him. She, Spyro and the Guardians had crammed into Terrador's room for this meeting, and they filled it without effort. Cyril looked uncomfortable perched stiffly upon one of Terrador's sleeping cushions.

"We and the citizens of Warfang witnessed your actions during the final days of the war," the Ice Guardian continued in a softer tone. "We have seen the dragoness you are and all that you have done to defend our species, and we are willing to forget your past in favour of believing in who you have become. But the wind dragons have been isolated from the rest of dragonkind for hundreds of years, aware of the war only through the tales of travellers and envoys. To them, you would be nothing more or less than the Terror of the Skies, the general of the Dark Army, the right-hand dragon of the Dark Master."

"You would not be welcome there."

Trembling both with fear and anger, Cynder bowed her head in defeat. Cyril's words rang true, no matter how she tried to deny them. The citizens of Warfang were willing to forget, but to everyone else she was a bitter reminder of all that dragonkind had lost during the war. Her paws shook and she clenched them, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"So," she said, raising her head and blinking her dry eyes, "I can't go. Why does Spyro have to? Why do you need him?"

"Because he is the purple dragon," Volteer said without hesitation. "He is a symbol of unity between all of dragonkind, the reason why we have come out the other side of this war alive, and the only way we can convince the wind dragons to return. They must be shown that a purple dragon can become something more than what Malefor became, and that in his image we can unite and become a proud, whole race once more."

"And, of course, to complete his elemental training," Cyril added.

Clenching her paws, Cynder glanced across at Spyro, hoping he saw the unspoken plea in her eyes. As their gazes met, he looked nothing short of heartbroken. She knew he understood and that he had already made his decision. She couldn't find the words to speak.

"I don't want to be away from Cynder, but...this isn't something I can refuse, is it?" Spyro murmured, turning his gaze to Terrador.

The Earth Guardian closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I cannot and will not force you into any decision, Spyro, but I'm sure you understand the weight of this task. The wind dragons are more than just a city of refugees—they are an entire subspecies of our race. Dragonkind has been split ever since Malefor's treachery, and it is up to us to unite it once more. I do not know if we can do this without you. Who better to right the wrongs of a purple dragon than the purple saviour himself?"

Spyro's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I...I understand. I can't turn my back on dragonkind just because the war is over now. This is my duty, isn't it?"

The Guardians nodded slowly, but Cynder could only stare at him. A symbol of unity? The saviour of the realms? Was this what they all saw Spyro as? She didn't care about any of that. He was her dragon, and she loved him. He belonged to her just as she belonged to him, and that was all that mattered. If only they could see that.

"Spyro..."

He caught her gaze and gave a small, sad smile. Cynder closed her mouth, knowing she could say nothing more in front of the Guardians. Spyro had already made his decision, and there was nothing she could do to change that. She bowed her head.

"I suppose you have decided then," said Cyril, and Spyro nodded. "Good dragon. Take a day or two to prepare, but we must leave soon. The trip to the northern temple is not a short one, and it may take a long time to convince the wind dragons to return."

"You may go, Spyro, Cynder." Terrador inclined his head towards them, and Cynder followed Spyro out of the room.

They walked down the corridor in silence, heading automatically towards Spyro's room where his dragonfly brother was likely still sleeping. It was only early morning, after all. Cynder desperately wanted to break the silence, but something very painful was happening inside her chest and she found herself unable to speak. Spyro was going away. Spyro was leaving without her.

"Are you angry with me?" Spyro asked quietly. When Cynder didn't respond, he continued. "I wouldn't blame you if you were."

Cynder sighed. "I can't be angry with you, Spyro. You're the most selfless dragon I know. But..." She looked away, a mixture of shame and defiance twisting her gut. "...for once, I wish you weren't."

Spyro didn't respond and for another few seconds they walked in silence, the tapping of their paws on stone the only sound. Something rose in Cynder's chest as the silence stretched on, and her eyes began to burn. Finally, she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Why should you have to give up your happiness for everyone else?!" she snapped, whipping her gaze up to capture his. There was moisture on her eyelids, but she didn't care. "Why should you have to do this just because you're the purple dragon? It isn't fair!"

"It...it won't be forever," Spyro said, his voice trembling. His steps faltered. "Just a few weeks... A few months at most."

"Months, Spyro!" Cynder stopped in her tracks and whirled around to face him, forcing him to stop in turn. Her chest felt like it was clenching tighter and tighter, and she struggled to get the words out. "I don't want to be away from you for even a week! How am I supposed to be without you for _months_ on end? I don't... I don't want that..."

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat but it stayed stuck there as tears filled her eyes. Mortified, she averted her gaze and tried to rub them away, her shoulders shaking. Spyro shifted slowly and Cynder felt the warmth of his wings drawing her in. She didn't try to fight it as he pulled her to his chest and curled a foreleg around her back. She pressed into his warmth, relishing his embrace, and as he placed his other paw on top of hers, she let herself relax against him.

"I love you. You know that," she whispered, her voice catching.

"I know," he murmured beside her head. She could feel his warm breath on her neck. "I don't want to be away from you either. Not at all. And I wish I didn't have to go, but refusing this just feels wrong. They need me."

"_I _need you," she whispered.

His paw clenched on top of hers. "I'll be back. I promise. No matter how long it takes... Will you wait for me?"

"Of course I'll wait for you. I'll wait for years if I have to. I just hope it doesn't come to that."

"Me too..."

For a long time, he held her in the hallway and she tried to let herself forget that it would be one of the last times they would be able to embrace like this for who knew how long. She never wanted it to end.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

The next dawn was no different. Cynder awoke to find her room cold and empty, just like it had been the last two weeks. It would be a while before she heard from Spyro again. Something inside her ached at the memory of that embrace in the hallway, one of the last they'd shared before he'd left. She almost couldn't remember what it was like to be held in his wings, pressed against his chest, enveloped by his warmth.

The mornings seemed so cold without him. She lay for some time, gazing unseeing at her lonely room, her mind full of Spyro. If she closed her eyes and imagined hard enough, she could almost feel him there beside her, his wing over her back and his paw upon hers. She wanted to lift her head and nuzzle him, to tell him that she loved him and that she was so glad he was back—but the image vanished like vapour and she found herself gazing at the unused cushions scattered around her.

Spyro was gone.

She was alone.

Eventually, Cynder groaned and pushed herself up. There was no sense in lying around and moping, even if that was all she wanted to do. She headed down to the main room of the temple, once again void of life, and found more almost freshly hunted scraps for breakfast. Then she sat for a while on the balcony outside the entrance and gazed over the street, wondering what to do.

She could go back inside and retreat into her room like always, but then Spyro hadn't wanted her to do that. What else was there to do? She didn't fancy going back to the marketplace, given the commotion that had happened the day before, and she wasn't quite in the mood for noisy bustling crowds. Maybe a walk in the gardens would clear her head.

But as Cynder stood up to head down to the gardens, she spotted something in the street ahead. A little pink face was peering around the corner, staring straight at her, and she would have bet her wings that she knew who it was. Unsure whether to feel irritable or amused, she started down the steps that led up to the raised platform outside the entrance to the temple. The pink face immediately disappeared around the corner.

"I know you're there!" Cynder called without breaking stride. She thought she heard a voice curse quietly, followed by a breathy giggle. A smile tugged at her mouth. "What are you doing?"

A familiar pink head popped around the corner again and was soon followed by the rest of her pudgy body. Ember grinned brightly up at her. "Stalking you."

There was a choking noise from around the corner and Flame jumped out, coughing and spluttering. "We weren't! We just knew you stayed at the temple, so we thought we'd come and see you again to say thanks for saving us yesterday and sorry if we upset you about Sp—!"

"It's fine!" Cynder held up a paw, and Flame gasped for breath. She shook her head, utterly bemused. "Did you two really come here just to see me?"

"Mhmm," Ember cooed, batting her eyelids coyly. "You were so cool yesterday that we thought we'd ask you to hang out with us. We don't see you around the city much, after all."

Cynder's eyes widened of their own accord and she stared from Ember to Flame. "Is this true?"

The red dragon pulled an odd sort of sheepish expression and averted his eyes. "Well...maybe. Figured you don't get out much and stuff... I-I mean, not trying to offend you or anything—!"

Cynder gave him a look and he shut his mouth, his throat bobbing as though he had just swallowed the rest of his words. She couldn't help but get the feeling that she had frightened him the other day when she'd snapped at him. It seemed like he was terrified of offending her again. The thought was somehow both amusing and guilt-wracking.

"No, you're right," she said, shaking her head. "I don't get out much at all. At least, not now that Spyro's gone. I don't really know what to do with myself."

Flame opened his mouth and closed it again, looking as though he couldn't quite find the words he wanted to say. The look he gave her was somehow confusing. It seemed almost as if he felt sorry for her. She wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or annoyed.

"Like we said," Ember cut in smoothly, nudging her brother aside. "Hang out with us. It'll be fun."

"Well..." Cynder eyed them both, at a loss. No one had ever invited her to spend time with them before, except Spyro and occasionally one of the Guardians. A part of her wanted to refuse—a little scared part that said she shouldn't feel welcome around other dragons given what she had once done to them—but the rest of her seemed to lift at the offer, and the weight on her heart suddenly felt a little lighter.

"Come on." Flame grinned a little uncertainly and cocked his head. "We can explore the city. It'll be better than staying cooped up inside all day."

Cynder hesitated for a moment longer, but her heart seemed to have already made its decision. Smiling wryly, she glanced back at the temple and then met Flame's eyes. "Alright. I'll come."

She had never seen anyone grin wider than Ember in that moment.

There was much of Warfang that Cynder had yet to explore. In the months that she and Spyro had been courting, they had spent their time largely around the centre of the city, and she'd never really seen much of the outskirts. Flame and Ember, however, seemed to know their way around as though they had maps of Warfang's streets tattooed on their brains.

"Staying inside is boring," Ember said when Cynder inquired. "So Flame and I go exploring. There's all sorts of places that nobody knows about that you can find if you look hard enough. We even found a tunnel down to the old city."

"The ruins?" Cynder asked, alarmed. "You didn't go down there, did you?"

Ember rolled her eyes. "You sound just like Mum. It can't be that dangerous. But we didn't. We didn't want to get lost. Flame's hopeless."

"I am not," Flame muttered. "You couldn't find your way around the marketplace without me."

"Speak for yourself, firebutt."

Cynder didn't say it, but she had a feeling their sense of direction was better than they gave each other credit for. Better than hers, at any rate. She padded alongside them down the street towards the southern section of the city, listening to their bickering and feeling strangely warm. It wasn't quite the same feeling she always had when she was with Spyro, but it was similar enough to make her smile.

Even so, she wished Spyro was there. She was sure he would have loved to meet Flame and Ember, and she could just imagine him walking beside her, their tails entwined as they laughed and chatted with the siblings. It was such a welcome image that, when she opened her eyes and realised Spyro wasn't there, a heavy weight settled on her heart. She barely managed to suppress her sigh and tried to push him from her thoughts.

"Hey!" Ember exclaimed suddenly, turning to Cynder with a wide-eyed smile. "I know! _You_ can take us down to the old city! You've been there before, right?"

She looked so cute and hopeful that, for a bizarre moment, Cynder found herself about to agree. But she snapped back to her senses seconds before the words left her mouth, and shook her head quickly. "I don't think so. It's dangerous down there, even with Malefor gone. Just because I've been there doesn't mean I know my way around."

Ember's muzzle crinkled with distaste. "Oh, come on! Just this once!"

Cynder shook her head, keeping her expression level, and Ember huffed. Tossing her head, she stalked ahead of them, muttering loudly to herself. "Older dragons are always so stuffy. Nobody in this city knows how to have fun anymore."

Her words turned to indecipherable grumbles and Cynder sighed. She glanced at Flame and was surprised to see him looking nothing less than amused. She cocked her head. "Your sister seems kind of..."

"Moody?" he put forward, flashing her a grin.

"Unpredictable," said Cynder, glancing ahead at the pink dragoness. "One minute she's bright and happy, and the next..."

Flame snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know. She's not always like that. Going through that uncomfortable stage, you know? Not quite a hatchling, not quite an adolescent. You remember what it was like."

Cynder frowned, at a loss. She looked at Ember again. It was true that she looked like she was trapped somewhere between hatchling and adolescent, but Cynder had never seen another young dragon in the same predicament. Then again, she hadn't seen many young dragons at all. She didn't recall going through the same thing, either, and for a short moment she wondered why. The answer came to her quicker than she'd expected.

"No, actually," she said to Flame. "I never experienced what that was like."

Flame stared at her, his steps faltering. "Wha? But you're an—"

"I spent three years frozen inside a crystal," Cynder muttered, cutting him off. "When I was frozen, I was still a hatchling. When I woke up... I looked like this."

For a moment, Flame gaped at her and she was certain his jaw would have hit the ground if it hadn't been attached to his head. At length, he grinned uncertainly and fell back into step beside her. "Seriously? That's totally freaky. How did you grow inside a crystal?"

"We asked the Guardians that once—well, Spyro did," Cynder couldn't help but smile a little sadly as she mentioned him, his face flashing in her mind's eye. "Volteer thought that the crystal had to be a type of Spirit Gem, and that our bodies survived and grew by feeding off its power or something. It's all a bit weird, I suppose."

"That is really weird," he agreed. He looked ahead towards his sister. "You're lucky you never had to go through that stage. It was so uncomfortable. I was grumpy all the time, I swear."

"How long does it last for?" Cynder asked. Though she had researched some things about dragons and the Dragon Realms since the end of the war, dragon physiology had not been one of them. She'd never really thought about it. Growth was just something that happened to all living things, even plants.

"It's different for everyone." Flame shrugged. "Probably about a year. Mine lasted just over a year, but I've heard it only goes on for a few months for some dragons. Lucky buggers. You don't know all this?"

"I..." Cynder felt her face heat up and looked away. It was not the first time she had felt awkwardly out of place among dragons, and she was certain it would not be the last. "I didn't grow up around dragons. I was never told about these things, and when I came to live here, I guess I never thought to look into it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Flame wilt slightly. "Right... Sorry, I forget who you are sometimes. That must have sucked."

Cynder agreed with a soft hum and didn't bother to elaborate. Delving into her past with a dragon she hardly knew yet wasn't the most tempting of ideas. As far as she was concerned, she wouldn't mind if he did forget about that part of her altogether. Nobody needed a reminder of what she'd once been.

"So," Flame said after a moment of silence, his voice cracking slightly. "You're probably due for the next growth spurt, right? You're what, sixteen? Seventeen?"

Cynder paused, casting her mind back. She wasn't sure how long it had been since the last Year of the Dragon when her egg had hatched, but Spyro had been twelve when he had first left the swamp—that much she was reasonably sure of. And it had been about a year since the end of the war. She shook her head. "Yes, about that."

"Most dragons start their second growth spurt around your age," Flame continued brightly. "It usually happens to the males first. Sometimes it'll continue for two to three years, but at the end of it you'll be full-grown. Cool, huh?"

Cynder stared at her paws and then at Ember, who was still stomping ahead, grumbling under her breath. Full-grown... She knew what it was like to be that big. To tower over even the aging Guardians, to look down upon a hatchling and think just how small a dragon could really be. But what would it be like to be fully grown in a natural form? Would she look any different than she had then?

"Hmm," she hummed, gazing with unfocused eyes down the street. "Cool."

Another thought rose unbidden in her mind, and Cynder found herself wondering if Spyro was already going through this growth spurt. If he was gone long enough, maybe it would happen while he was away. Maybe he'd be taller when he returned. For some reason, the thought caused a pit of worry to open deep in her stomach. What if the Spyro that returned from the northern temple wasn't the same as the one who had left? If he was gone for so long...

Cynder shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside. He wouldn't be gone for that long, surely. She didn't think she could bear it if he was.

The day passed quickly after that. No more awkward conversations were had, and Ember's demeanour lifted drastically when Flame suggested they take Cynder to a secret alcove garden that they had apparently discovered at the far south edge of Warfang. It turned out to be a little alcove of trees and ivy hidden behind a large building, only accessible by a series of thin alleyways. Cynder suspected it had been created some time ago by whoever had lived in the building as a place for them to hide away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

When the sun started to sink, Flame and Ember walked with her back to the temple and bid their farewells. Before they left, however, Ember piped up with the suggestion that they should do this more often. Cynder hesitated for a moment, thinking of the times when she could simply enjoy her own company in peace and quiet, but her urge for company won out in the end.

Feeling a little more fulfilled than before, she made her way back up to her bedroom. It was only upon lying down on her cushions and gazing around at her empty room that Cynder realised just how alone she felt. Everything felt cold, from the cushions, to the floor, to her scales and even the very air inside her room. She wanted nothing more than to curl up within Spyro's warmth; to hear his gentle breathing so that the silence didn't sound so deafening. But he wasn't there, and the silence went unbroken.

She clutched her cushions to her chest and curled up tighter, screwing her eyes shut and trying to imagine that he was there beside her. Maybe his wing would be spread over her body. Maybe he would be holding her in his paws, cradling her against his chest while he entwined their tails together. She shivered and tried to imagine.

But no matter how hard she tried to form that image, it would not become real.

* * *

The days seemed to pass too slow, as though each was longer than the last, but Cynder awoke one morning to a high-pitched trill that ripped her from a pleasant dream. She scrambled around on her cushions, her head spinning and her heart hammering as she tried to figure out what had just happened. Only when the blur of sleep faded from her eyes and she saw the bird perched upon her windowsill did she realise.

Cynder sat up quickly, forgetting about the last fading images that were all that remained of the dream she'd awoken from—though she was certain it'd had something to do with Spyro somehow. The bird was unmistakably a falcon, and though she wasn't sure how easy it was to tell one bird apart from another, Cynder was almost certain it was Rosemary. Heart in her throat, she stumbled off her cushion and over to the window.

There was another scroll clutched in the falcon's talons, and Cynder trembled with excitement as she reached for it. Rosemary relinquished it easily and Cynder backed away to her cushions again before slitting open the wax seal. She almost couldn't unroll it fast enough, but as soon as she read the first word her whole body was washed with relief. She relaxed on her cushions and sighed.

_Cynder_

_You have no idea how happy I was when Rosemary brought me your letter. For a moment it was like you were there with me. And then I missed you all the more._

_I don't know where to start. It is pretty cold here, at least more so than Warfang, but I'm just glad the Season of Ice is over. If we'd come here a few months ago, I'm certain there would have been snow and ice everywhere. I don't know how the wind dragons do it. But you're right, Cyril seems to like the surroundings. I wish I could say the same about the inhabitants._

_Avgustin and Cyril don't get along at all. I think they're too much alike and they get on each other's nerves. I heard them yelling at each other the other day, though I couldn't hear what they were saying. It doesn't bode well for ever convincing him and his wind dragons to return with us to Warfang, or for ever getting them to teach me the wind element._

_Speaking of which, Avgustin is refusing to speak with me. He's put me under the care of one of the guards, but it feels more like being under arrest. At least I seem to have made a friend. His name is Wirrin and he's a few years older than us, but he's already full-grown. He's nice enough and he doesn't seem to like how Avgustin is treating me, like I'm some kind of prisoner. He even offered to start teaching me the wind element in secret, but I'm not sure. If Avgustin were to find out, it could ruin every chance we have of doing what we came here for._

_It looks like there's still a long way to go before they ever start listening to us, let alone trusting us. I'm almost glad you're not here to suffer this kind of prejudice, but at the same time... I really miss you._

_Enough about me. I was a little worried when your letter said you'd been staying inside most of the time. I hope you've gone out at least once since you wrote that; I don't want you to force yourself to be alone. It makes me feel all the more useless thinking about you like that. Have you talked to anyone lately?_

_As much as it was nice to read your letter, I really wish I could hear your voice or see you again. I think of you every day. I can't wait for the time when we'll be together again, and I hope the wind dragons come to trust us soon. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to..._

_I miss you more than anything, Cynder. Please write again soon._

_Much love._

_Spyro_

_Oh, I almost forgot. Sparx has started calling Avgustin 'Old Gusty'. It was only a matter of time, right?_

_I love you._

Cynder gazed at the final three words scrawled upon the parchment, her whole body filled with warmth. Spyro was right. It was just like he was there with her while she read over his letter. She could almost imagine the words he'd written spoken in his voice, and it caused a warm fuzziness somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

A little dazed, she gathered her blank parchment and bottle of ink, and proceeded to write a reply. The words came even easier than they had last time, though she stopped every now and then to read over Spyro's letter just to make sure she didn't miss anything. She almost forgot about Rosemary watching from the windowsill.

_Spyro_

_It feels like it's been months since your last letter. The days have seemed so slow without you here, but reading these words you have written now, I can almost imagine you beside me, speaking them. I miss you so much._

_I'm sorry to hear that things haven't been going so well. It seems like the wind dragons are even more guarded than even Terrador suspected. How could they treat you like a prisoner? You're a hero. The saviour of the realms. You deserve far better than that. If I was there, I think I'd give that Wind Guardian a piece of my mind. I don't care who he thinks he is, he has no right to treat you like that._

_Maybe you should let Sparx deal with him. I'm sure Old Gusty will break sooner or later if he has to listen to the lantern's endless chatter._

_I'm glad to hear, at least, that you've met someone friendly. But maybe taking Wirrin up on his offer isn't the right thing to do, like you said. Then again, maybe if you ruined your chances with the wind dragons, you could come home sooner... No, forget I wrote that. I'm sorry. It's just been hard without you._

_I'm sorry to have worried you about my own wellbeing, too. I hope you'll be happy to know that I've made a friend—or two—as well. I never expected to, but it just sort of happened. Their names are Flame and Ember. They're siblings, a few years younger than us, from Terra Firma. I met them at the marketplace on the same day I sent you that letter. They invited me to spend time with them the day after, and I've seen them a few times since._

_It's strange having friends. I never thought I'd feel as comfortable with anyone as I feel with you, but something about those two just puts me at ease. When I'm with them, I don't feel quite so alone. I feel kind of...accepted. That sounds foolish, but I'm not sure how else to put it. Either way, I'm glad to have met them and I hope this puts your worries at ease._

_I miss you more than anything too, but I'm surviving. And I'll keep waiting to see you again, however long it takes. It's just the nights that are lonely._

_I want to see you again soon. I miss the sound of your voice. Can you believe it's been almost a month since we last held each other? So long... Please don't let it be much longer. I love you._

_Cynder_

Within moments, she was standing at her window, watching as Rosemary and her letter to Spyro disappeared into the sky for a second time. She let out a sigh and rested her chin upon the windowsill. As much as she felt lighter for finally hearing from him again, the more she thought about it, the more she realised Spyro's letter had carried little more than bad news. The wind dragons were treating him like a prisoner, Cyril and the Wind Guardian were at each other's throats, and they were no closer to returning to Warfang than they had been a few weeks ago.

She closed her eyes. How long would it before she saw him again? It already felt like he had been gone forever, and it had been less than a month. A part of her felt like she was beginning to forget what it was like to be with him, and that terrified her.

"I want to see you again," she whispered against the windowsill. The silent city below gave her no answer.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

Some time later, Cynder was startled from a half-awake stupor by a tentative rapping at her door. She jerked her head up from the windowsill and looked over her shoulder, wondering who could possibly be knocking. Frowning and a little on edge, she got to her feet and made her way over. The door opened with a simple puff of shadow-smoke, and she found herself gazing down at a small pink dragoness.

"Ancestors!" Ember exclaimed exasperatedly, giving an exaggerated roll of her huge blue eyes. "We finally found you! Do you know how many doors we knocked on? Why didn't you meet us outside?"

"I..." All of a sudden, the plans she'd made to meet up with Flame and Ember that morning came rushing back and she inhaled sharply. In the excitement of receiving Spyro's letter, it had completely slipped her mind. "I completely forgot. I'm sorry. Were you waiting for long?"

"No," Flame said, poking his head around the door. Cynder had a feeling he'd been hiding on purpose, though she couldn't figure out why. He always acted oddly around her.

"Hours!" Ember trilled, pouting and tossing her head. She fixed Cynder with a bright-eyed glare. "And then we knocked on about fifty doors trying to find your room!"

"It was only five..." Flame mumbled.

"I'm sorry," Cynder said with a smile that felt more like a grimace. She glanced over her shoulder at the window, but Rosemary was already long gone. "I was...distracted."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Flame and Ember peering past her curiously, obviously wondering what she was looking at and what had distracted her. What she didn't expect was for them to clue in so quickly—but then Ember was always uncannily perceptive.

"Did you get a letter?" she asked almost immediately and, upon seeing Cynder's embarrassed expression, cooed loudly. "That's so sweet! What did he say? Is he coming back soon? I hope he is, I can't _wait_ to meet him."

Cynder tried to smile, but it felt wrong on her face and she soon let it fall. "It's... No, I don't know when he's coming back. Things aren't going so well where he is, so it...it could be a while."

Ember's face fell comically, but Flame's expression was less exaggerated. He looked almost worried, and Cynder once again had the distinct impression that he felt sorry for her. More than that, something about the way he looked at her seemed to suggest that he wanted to help her. How, she didn't know.

She looked away. Even if Ember and Flame wanted to help, she wasn't in the mood to be given pity and sympathy. Her relationship with Spyro was her own business, and how she felt about him being far away shouldn't have to matter to anyone else. The least Ember and Flame could do was take her mind off him.

"Let's go," she said abruptly. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. What did you want to do?"

"Hmmm?" Ember narrowed her eyes and Cynder had a feeling that she knew why she'd changed the subject. Nevertheless, Ember shrugged and half turned away. "Well, _I_ wanted to go for a swim in the baths. Flame usually complains, though. I think he's scared of water."

Flame scowled at her. "I'm not scared. I'm about as afraid of water as you are of...of...spiders."

"Utterly terrified, then," said Ember without missing a beat. Cynder stifled a grin as Ember turned to her. "What do you think?"

"Well..." Cynder hesitated. She'd gone to the baths once before with Spyro, though they'd found it too busy and noisy and hadn't stayed long. But then, all they'd wanted was privacy. Perhaps it would be different with Flame and Ember. "I guess that would be okay."

Flame uttered a barely audible groan. "Alright... But we have to use the shared ones. It's no fun going to the drake-only baths alone."

"Shame, I was hoping to get rid of you." Ember's eyes twinkled mischievously and she turned away, starting down the corridor.

Flame hurried after her, scowling, and Cynder glanced once more over her shoulder at her empty room. Her cushions were scattered all over the floor, and there were scraps of parchment everywhere too, but she didn't want to make the siblings wait any longer.

"...didn't know you were afraid of spiders," Flame muttered from down the hallway.

"Unlike you, dear brother, _I_ don't openly show my fears."

Gazing wistfully at the window one last time, Cynder stepped out into the corridor and hurried after them.

* * *

The baths were situated in the northern sector of Warfang, close to the centre of the city. They were a common social hub, and it was no surprise to Cynder to find them teeming with activity. The building that housed the baths was huge—not in height, for it was relatively short compared to the skyscrapers and lookout towers—but in sheer area covered. It was no surprise, really, considering it housed three separate baths, all of which needed to be big enough for the use of hundreds of dragons.

The first time she had been there, Cynder had likened the baths to small oceans—although, Spyro had said they looked more like large lakes. As she, Ember and Flame passed through the doorway and into the cool shade of the bath house, Cynder decided her opinion hadn't changed much.

The shared bath was the biggest of all three, situated in the middle of the bath house, right in front of the entranceway. It stretched so far back that Cynder estimated it would take several minutes just to walk to the other end. Just like the last time she had been there, a cool ambiance seemed to hang in the air, and the cheerful din of countless voices chatting and water splashing echoed off the walls. There were dragons everywhere, most playing or lounging in the water, and others reclining on the sides of the huge bath.

It was almost as busy as the marketplace.

Ember drew in a long audible breath and sighed deeply. "It's been way too long. Ah, I can't wait!"

With a quiet squeal, she dashed across the stone floor—damp from the water that had been treaded to and fro from the bath to the entranceway—and jumped into the bath. She disappeared beneath the water with a splash that went largely unnoticed by the countless bathers, and then surfaced half a second later with a loud gasp. When Ember turned her head, both her eyes and scales were sparkling. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah," Flame grumbled. He stalked forward at a more sedate pace and Cynder followed, casting her gaze around the bathhouse.

There were two more doors leading to separate rooms, one to the left and one to the right, blocked off by heavy animal-skin curtains. A plaque above the left door read 'dragonesses', and the plaque on the right read 'drakes.' Cynder had never gone into the dragoness-only bath. She hadn't seen the point, having been there only to spend time with Spyro. But she imagined it might be less rowdy than the shared bath. She doubted the same could be said for the drake-only bath.

As she reached the edge of the bath, she shook herself from her thoughts and glanced across at Flame. He was glaring at the water as though it was poison and seemed reluctant to even dip his paw in. A smile tweaked Cynder's lips and she had the sudden, bizarre urge to push him in. One glance at Ember confirmed she was thinking exactly the same thing, at least judging from her narrowed eyes and thin smirk.

The urge passed as quickly as it had come, and Cynder wondered what was wrong with her for even thinking it. Pushing the thoughts aside, she carefully stepped down into the water beside Ember. It was cool but pleasantly so, and she couldn't help but let her body relax as all but her head and shoulders was submerged. The chattering din was bearable.

"Get in, you scaredy sack of scales." Ember waded up to the edge and poked her brother's paw. "Water doesn't bite, you know."

Flame pulled his paw away, giving her a reproachful look. "I'll get in when I want to."

"Which is never." Ember rolled her eyes and seemed about to turn away.

For a moment Flame looked relieved, until his sister whirled around and latched onto his closest foreleg with both paws. He yelped and tried to stagger back, but it seemed Ember was stronger than she looked. She pulled hard and Flame's paws skittered on the wet stone as he was jerked towards the edge of the bath. Cynder tensed on reflex and lifted her wing slightly as he teetered in the edge, struggling to free his paw.

With a great splash, he tumbled into the water just as Cynder covered her face with her wing. Once she felt the water splash against her membrane, she slowly lowered her wing to peer at the damage. Flame was now sitting in the water beside Ember, looking disgruntled as he pawed droplets from his face. Ember looked very smug indeed.

"Why do you have to be so violent?" Flame muttered, flicking water at her. "How can someone so tiny be so full of evil?"

Ember poked her tongue out at him. "I'm not _tiny_, I'm fun-size."

"You don't even know what fun is." Flame's eyes narrowed as he spoke and his stance lowered and tensed.

Cynder saw what was coming, and she watched in bemused silence as he pounced on his sister and tried to dunk her head under the water. Ember squealed and wriggled away from him, but he clumsily scrambled after her, splashing water in every direction, grinning. Her giggles and squeals rebounded off the walls as her brother grabbed her in his paws and wrestled her down.

Cynder could only stare. She'd never known what it was like to be a sibling. The memories she had as a hatchling were brief and vague, clearest only in the most nightmarish of moments. She recalled the rough hands of apes and the cold iron of prison cells and, if she thought hard enough, an image that consisted only of darkness and flashes of indigo—and a feeling that she could not describe. She was certain this was the moment of her corruption.

Even when Spyro had freed her, she had felt so trapped and confused by her own ignorance. She hadn't known what she was or why she existed, only that she had existed to be _his_ slave and, without that, she hadn't known what was expected of her. Life as a child was something she had been denied, and as she watched Flame and Ember wrestle in the water, she couldn't help but envy them. She would never know what that was like.

At least she knew what it was like to be loved and to love in return. But Spyro was far away now, and she didn't know when she would see him again. When would life see fit to stop taking things away from her?

"It's not against the rules to smile, you know." Ember's voice snapped her from her downward spiral of thoughts, and Cynder looked up with a start. The pink dragoness smiled a little wryly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "What's up?"

Flame was wading over to them, and Cynder looked from one to the other while she tried to come up with an answer. She didn't particularly want them to know her train of thought. Somehow, she doubted they'd want to know either. Instead, she shook her head and picked an answer that was mostly the truth, if not all of it.

"It's fine," she said, averting her eyes from them. "I was just thinking of Spyro. I kind of wish he was here."

"Kind of?" Flame cocked an eyebrow and Cynder immediately regretted her choice of words.

"I...I really wish he was here," she corrected, wilting in embarrassment. The water suddenly seemed a little too cold for her liking. She half turned away, thinking of getting out, but Ember's next words stopped her in her tracks.

"You must miss him so bad. When did you start courting, anyway? Was it before or after the war?" Her eyes were huge and innocent when Cynder turned to look, and even Flame looked interested.

"It..." she hesitated, scuffing the stone floor of the bath with a paw. Her mind travelled back several months of its own accord, and the memory that rose in her head filled her with a gentle kind of warmth. "After the war. We sort of...started courting before we really knew what it meant."

Cynder glanced sideways at Flame and Ember to find them both watching her expectantly, and she realised they wanted to know the rest of the story. Feeling a little awkward, she backed up a step.

"Really, it's a bit silly," she protested, looking away. But as the words left her mouth, Cynder wondered why she was protesting. Most of her wanted nothing more than to talk about Spyro until her voice was hoarse, as though just that would help her feel closer to him somehow. Sometimes she had found herself hoping Flame or Ember would ask about him, just so that she could let out the words that always seemed to be there on her tongue. She wasn't sure where this sudden embarrassment came from.

"Come on, tell us!" Ember begged, wading a little closer. She seemed to be trying to make her eyes as big as possible, as if that would convince Cynder to give in.

A smile tugged at her mouth despite herself. Maybe telling them wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

It was raining heavily. The roaring downpour echoed throughout the library as it hammered the roof and the streets outside. It was an oddly cosy feeling, Cynder found as she lay curled on a cushion in a little alcove between shelves. Though the world outside was cold and wet, she was warm and dry inside the library, listening to the rain as it thundered down.

There were many dragons in the library as well that morning, likely hiding from the rain just as she was, but no one bothered her in her little alcove. Normally, on days like this, she enjoyed spending her time with Spyro, either training in the temple's dojo or simply chatting in one of their rooms while they watched the rain fall. But he'd had a meeting with the Guardians that morning, and Cynder had found herself alone and with nothing to do.

A curiosity that she didn't dare mention to Spyro had driven her to the library instead, and she was almost glad he wasn't there to see what she was reading. She was absolutely certain he would get the wrong idea—or the right idea, she supposed.

It was hard not to be curious, though. She'd told him some months ago without really knowing what those words meant, but after spending time as his friend she was starting to wonder if she really _did_ love Spyro. But as for what love entailed, she wasn't entirely sure. There was no sense in asking the Guardians; she could just imagine how awkward that conversation would be. And she doubted, given how old and separated from normal society they were, that they had any experience in the subject anyway.

Asking Spyro was obviously out of the question, and that included Sparx as well. Which meant that there was no one left to ask—no one, of course, except the almost endless supply of knowledge held within the hundreds and hundreds of library books. Cynder was currently flicking through one titled: _Courtship Practices –_ _A Study of Dragon Relationships_. She'd had to ask the librarian, a wiry yellow dragoness, where to look for such a subject—that had been awkward enough, and the knowing smile the librarian had given her hadn't helped matters.

After that, however, no one had bothered her and she had spent the last hour reading in peace and quiet. That wasn't to last, it seemed—or so the familiar but not-quite-welcome voice calling her name told her.

"Cynder, there you are!"

Spyro's voice cut through her reading daze and Cynder leapt from her cushion, snapping the book shut on reflex. She fumbled it in her paws and it fell to the floor beside her cushion, cover up. Immediately, she placed her paw over the title and looked up, her face hot.

Sure enough, Spyro was walking towards her between the aisles, his scales glistening with rainwater and a bright smile on his face. At once, Cynder felt both giddy and nervous, and wondered what on earth was wrong with her. And why was Spyro there? He looked like he'd been out in the rain for some time.

"I looked all over for you," he said as he approached, apparently unperturbed by her violent reaction—or he hadn't noticed at all. "You weren't in the temple when the Guardians let me go, and it was raining pretty heavily by that time so I figured you wouldn't be outside. I guessed the only other place you'd have gone would be here. I had to ask the librarian if she'd seen you."

"Ah," said Cynder, a little dazed. The librarian. The same librarian who had pointed her towards the courtship section. The blood drained from her face. "What did she say?"

Spyro cocked his head as though that was an odd thing to ask. "She just pointed me over here. Why?"

"No reason," Cynder said a little too quickly, cursing herself. She was all too aware of the book under her paw, and the incriminating title not quite covered by her talons. Swallowing nervously, she tried to smile at Spyro and hoped he wouldn't look. "So what did the Guardians tell you?"

Spyro shrugged, relaxing his stance with an easy smile. "Not much. They just wanted to know if I'd been training well, and I said I had. Although, they did say they'd like to train me up to become a Guardian if I want to... You know, with Ignitus gone..."

He trailed off, but Cynder perked up, startled. "A Guardian? Spyro, are you kidding? Did you accept?"

"I...I said I had to think about it," Spyro stammered, shrinking away from her and looking a little flustered. He grinned uncertainly. "I mean, its a big responsibility and all..."

He looked away and Cynder got the impression that he was trying to find something to change the subject. Unfortunately for her, that something was trapped under her paw. Spyro cocked his head as though trying to read the letters partly hidden under her talons. "What were you reading about?"

"Ah..." Cynder tensed her paw, whatever blood that was left in her face draining away completely. What could she say? Maybe she could just push the book away and say it was nothing. But then he would be suspicious. Maybe she could change the subject again to distract him, but what? Her mind whirled in circles, seeking options that weren't there, and in the time it took her to answer Spyro had already reached for the book.

He took it out from under her paw before she could protest, and she wilted as his gaze skimmed over the cover. There was a pause in which Cynder's heart shrivelled up, and then Spyro raised his head.

"Courtship?" he asked, an uncertain smile on his face. "I didn't expect you to be reading about something like that. Is it interesting?"

Feeling suddenly short of breath, Cynder struggled to speak a reply. "It's...it's enlightening."

Enlightening? Why had she said that? Spyro's smile wavered a little and Cynder wanted to curl up and forget she was there. A moment of silence passed between them, so awkward that Cynder would have preferred that Sparx had been there—which was unusual, since more often than not she found herself wishing he wasn't there. He always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

At length, Spyro pushed the book back to her and reaffixed his smile, looking somehow less awkward than Cynder felt. "I don't really know much about it myself, actually. Do you think you could show me what you found out?"

There was something sly about the way he cocked his head and smiled, and Cynder had the strangest urge to smile back, despite herself. She glanced down at the book, her heart thundering. Had he realised? Did he know? He didn't seem to be acting much different than usual, so maybe... Maybe there wasn't any harm in it after all.

Within moments, they were settled side by side on the same cushion, though Cynder made sure there was at least a little space left between them. Even so, Spyro was so close that she could feel his warmth and smell the rainwater drying on his scales. Part of her wanted to scoot across and press against him, regardless of what he thought. But maybe that would be a bit too much.

Unsure where to start, she flipped the book open at a random page and promptly skipped several chapters back to the beginning, hoping Spyro hadn't noticed she'd accidentally opened it at the 'From Courtship to Mates' section. Her heart pounding, she tried to skim the page for something to show Spyro, but her flustered mind could hardly make sense of the words. Realising how foolish she was being, Cynder closed her eyes and took a moment to steady herself. There was no use acting like this around Spyro. Nothing had changed between them since that morning, after all.

"I _have_ wondered how dragons start courting," Spyro said nonchalantly, as though he hadn't even noticed her internal war. "Is there some sort of...ritual? Dragonfly couples present each other with woven reeds. Did you know that?"

Cynder stared. "I... No. I didn't know that."

Shaking her head, she turned back to the book and realised she no longer felt as flustered and on edge. She wondered if Spyro had intended that by distracting her, and felt a rush of warmth towards him. Smiling softly, she flipped to the front of the chapter. "I was curious about that too, but it's pretty straightforward."

"Read it to me," Spyro said, scooting a little closer.

Cynder stiffened slightly as his tail brushed against hers, but she convinced herself to relax and shot him an amused look. "Something wrong with your eyes?"

"No, I just like listening to your voice." He smirked and folded his paws, and Cynder was left stunned in the wake of his casual confession.

She snorted softly and turned back to the book, trying to hide the silly grin that was attempting to creep onto her face. It was a moment before she composed herself enough to start reading.

"Courtship is a common ritual undertaken by most dragons at any stage of life. More commonly, a dragon's interest in courtship begins during the adolescent stage, and this time of life is often when courtship rituals begin to take place. The purpose of courtship, essentially, is to find a life-mate: one with whom a dragon will live and reproduce during adult life. It is a ritual taken between a drake and a dragoness."

Cynder took a deep breath and continued, all too aware of Spyro almost pressed up against her side. "The first stage of courting is often preceded by close friendship. Typically, the ritual is begun by the drake, although it is not unheard for the dragoness to initiate it. Once the offer of courtship has been extended—and should the offer be accepted—the courting pair begin spending time together more often than not. At this early stage, courtship is often kept a secret from friends and family alike. It is also the most unstable stage, during which most failed courtships will end."

"This stage of courtship is often likened to an extension of friendship."

"Sounds like us," Spyro said calmly, his shoulder brushing against hers.

Words failed her and she found herself mouthing soundlessly, the paragraphs on the page blurring in front of her eyes. "You...you think?"

"An extension of friendship, spending most of our time together..." Spyro smiled at her. "Plus, we haven't told anyone."

Told anyone what? Cynder wanted to ask, but she couldn't bring herself to speak the words. Instead she just stared at him, wondering if she was the one who'd had the wrong idea this whole time. Did he think they'd been courting all along? ...Had they?

"What's next?" Spyro prompted, leaning against her fully to get a better look at the page.

The rainwater left on his scales rubbed off on hers and was promptly vaporised by the heat generated between them. Cynder drew in a breath, her spine tingling all the way down to her tail, and stared at their paws, almost touching. He was so close. She wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and let him take her paw and hold it...

The warm shivers were still rippling down her spine, but she forced herself to look back at the book and keep reading. "The second stage of courtship is decidedly more serious than the first. It can only be undertaken with the permission of the families of those courting, which must be requested in person. Following this, it is tradition for the drake and the dragoness to present each other with a Spirit Gem, representing long life and devotion to one another."

"I don't have any Spirit Gems," Spyro murmured quietly. "I wonder if..."

Trying to pretend she hadn't heard him, though her heart was thundering madly, Cynder read on. "It is during this stage that the courting pair will begin to show physical affection, often expressed through embracing and gentle n-nuzzling..."

She trailed off, her face hot as she gazed at the little sketched picture below the paragraph of two dragons muzzle to muzzle, expressions of contentment drawn upon their faces. It was something she would never admit, but there were times when she had imagined what it would be like to nuzzle Spyro. Whether it would be warm; how soft those sensitive scales would be as they brushed together...

"Hmm? I see..." Spyro shifted slightly and Cynder half turned her head to ask him what was up. She never got the chance. The tip of his muzzle brushed against the side of hers for the briefest of instants, and she felt his hot breath across her cheek. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat, and even after he pulled away she was too stunned to move.

It was a moment before she found her voice. "Did...did you just...?"

Spyro smiled innocently and his eyes seemed to twinkle. "I was wondering how to make the next step."

"But..." Cynder stared at him, her train of thought grinding to a complete halt. Everything had stopped making sense. The next step? Spyro wanted to...court her? "We're supposed...supposed to ask permission first..."

Spyro looked away for a moment, his expression suddenly thoughtful. "But we don't have anyone to ask. Do we? Oh!"

He turned back to her, his eyes alight with a sudden thought, and a sudden rush of apprehension jolted through her. "We could ask the Guardians! They're as good as family to both of us. And Sparx too. He's my brother, after all. We should do that now; come on!"

Before Cynder could even begin to comprehend what was going on, Spyro had gotten to his feet and was beckoning for her to get up. The book lay forgotten between her paws and she stared up at him, mouth ajar. This couldn't possibly be real. There was no way Spyro was standing there before her, telling her they were going to ask the Guardians for permission to court. There was no way he was so calm about something like that.

"Let's go," he said brightly when she didn't get up, his smile unwavering. "It's about time we did it anyway."

Her head spun. Spyro's face swam before her eyes and warmth spread throughout her body. She couldn't tell whether it was from embarrassment or fondness. Against everything, a grin began to spread across her face. He was actually suggesting this. Spyro actually wanted to do this.

"Are you crazy?" she asked, grinning as she got to her feet and closed the book. "Where did this even come from?"

Spyro's eager smile shifted ever so slightly into a knowing smirk. "It's long overdue, right? We've been dropping hints for weeks. At least, I have. Did I read you wrong?"

For the first time, a hint of uncertainty flickered across his face and Cynder felt a twinge of both guilt and amusement. On a whim, she leant forward and pressed the tip of her muzzle against his cheek. It was warm and soft and filled her head with a scent that she had come to yearn for. As she pulled away, she found him grinning widely again.

"You know me too well," she said. "I thought I was imagining all those hints you kept dropping."

"Maybe I'm not good at dropping hints." He turned slightly, offering his tail to her. "I'm just lucky you like me too."

Cynder stepped up to his side, a giddy feeling rising in her chest, and wound the tip of her tail around his. "So? Let's go ask."

The smile on Spyro's face grew wider than she had ever seen it and they started back through the library side-by-side. As they did so, Cynder paused, a thought running through her head. She almost wanted to laugh, but instead she glanced sideways at Spyro and rested her head against the side of his neck.

"Let's just hope Sparx doesn't freak out too much," she said.

* * *

"Did he?" Ember asked with great interest.

"Sparx?" Cynder couldn't help the smirk that slid onto her face. "He freaked out alright. Something about Spyro being under my spell... He got used to it eventually. I think he was just annoyed that I 'stole' his brother from him."

Flame's expression shifted oddly and for a moment he looked almost concerned. "You didn't, did you?"

His eyes flickered towards Ember for a split second, but Cynder caught it and frowned. "Spyro and I were already spending a lot of time together. It wasn't like we actively started leaving Sparx out. Though he did stop hanging around us as much... I think it embarrassed him a bit."

She thought back to the first letter Spyro had sent her, wondering if what he had written was true. Had Sparx really felt left out all this time? It had been several months since they had started courting and she'd never really thought about it. But what could she have been expected to do about it? Spyro had his own life to live; he and Sparx couldn't always be inseparable. Besides, it was about time Sparx found someone of his own to court... If that was even called courting.

"What did the Guardians say?" Ember insisted, changing the subject without so much as a beat of hesitation.

Flame seemed to wilt slightly, and Cynder wondered it was like to have a sibling one never wanted to be separated from. She shook her head, pushing those thoughts away, and thought back to that day several months ago. A smile touched her lips. "They were surprised we asked permission from them. But, honestly, I think they were also grateful. It's against tradition for Guardians to participate in courtship, so they never had the chance to have families themselves. I guess they were glad that we, Spyro and I, could be the family that they never had."

"They gave us permission of course," she went on, warmth rising in her at the memory. "Volteer thought that we already _were_ courting. Apparently we acted like it without really realizing it."

"So cute," Ember cooed, her eyes twinkling.

Flame seemed to try to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "Yeah. Cute."

"I really hope we can meet him soon," said Ember as she stood up out of the water and turned towards the middle of the baths. "We can all come here some time. It'll be fun."

Remembering that they were in public, Cynder shivered and cast a swift glance around her, just to make sure no one else had been listening in on her story. But the rest of the bathers seemed too busy with their own conversations and no one was even looking their way. Something about the constant buzz of voices, combined with the cool atmosphere, was oddly relaxing. Cynder sighed and relaxed back in the water. She could just about imagine him there beside her, his wet scales glistening in the light, warmly pressed against her side.

"Yeah," she said. "I think he'd like that."


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

_Cynder_

_I wish that I had good news to give you. Cyril and Avgustin seem to have stopped talking. They won't even be in the same room as each other. But Cyril's too stubborn to just leave, and I think it will be a while before he can be convinced. I don't think he wants to return home in failure, but the wind dragons don't want to come with us. I don't know what to do._

_Wirrin has been showing me around, but everyone is still suspicious of me. I've tried to help any way I can, to see if I can gain their trust, but no one seems to want anything to do with me. I think they're scared of what I might do to them, and they won't listen to me when I tell them I have nothing but the best interests of dragonkind at heart._

_I'm just glad Wirrin trusts me enough to stay around, and that Sparx is always at my side. At least I know he'll always be there for me. I'm trying to convince Cyril to talk to Avgustin again or just let us return to Warfang, but he won't listen. I think he wants to convince the wind dragons to leave behind Avgustin's back, but I can't see that working out for anyone. They trust their Guardian far more than they trust us._

_I don't know what to do, Cynder. Being here is a nightmare. I don't feel welcome, and I miss you so much it hurts. I hope we can come home soon. The thought of you being alone doesn't settle well. I want to be there for you._

_At any rate, I'm glad you've made friends. They sound great, and I'd love to meet them when I return. Have they asked much about me? About us? I imagine the city is still buzzing with gossip about that since Sparx let it slip to one of the merchants. I can't believe him. No one's giving you a hard time, are they?_

_I'm exhausted. If you were here I think I'd just like to fall asleep in your wings. I never knew what it was like for a whole city not to trust you... I suppose that's what you were afraid of all this time? I understand now._

_We'll be together soon, Cynder. I promise. No matter what happens._

_I'm always thinking about you._

_Spyro_

* * *

_Spyro_

_You have no idea how much I wish I was there. To be honest...it scares me. It sounds like you're a long time from coming home, and I don't know how much longer I can do this without you. It hurts. Every night I try to imagine you're there with me, but it just isn't the same. Sometimes I feel like I'll never see you again._

_I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that. I have faith in you, and I know you'll return in time. The wind dragons will see reason, and if they don't, Cyril has to concede. I know how stubborn he can be, but he can't force you both to stay there for a hopeless cause. He just can't._

_At least Flame and Ember are here. I'm not sure what I'd do without them. When I'm not with them, I feel like an intruder in an alien world—like there's nothing here for me. But they make me feel welcome, like I'm something more than the memory of my past. Even so, they're no substitute for you. I want you to meet them. Everything would be better if only you were here._

_I want to share my life with you, Spyro. When I can't...it hurts. I don't want to keep feeling like this, but I'll wait for you. I'll always wait for you. I don't know what else I can do. You're always on my mind, no matter where I am or what I'm doing... It isn't fair. I can't even hear your voice._

_I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so emotional. It's late at night and things always seem worse at this time. I wish you were here to hold me._

_Whatever happens, I won't give up. I'll always love you._

_Cynder_

* * *

Cynder awoke in the middle of the night, shivering and feeling as though cold icy claws of terror were squeezing her heart. Something was wrong. Something was awfully, horribly wrong. Frozen on her cushions, she scanned the shadows of her room and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the silhouette of a figure standing nearby. A strangled hiss escaped her lips, but then she blinked and saw that it was not a figure at all, but a shadow cast by the bookshelf in the dim light of the moons.

Cynder sighed and let her claws relax. She had tensed them so fiercely that they had pierced into the fabric of her cushion. For a moment she lay stiffly, scanning the room just to make sure that she was indeed alone. Only darkness and shadows cast by the moonlight met her gaze. One unusual shadow drew her gaze to the window and she saw the falcon Rosemary was still perched there, her head tucked under her wing.

The letter to Spyro lay rolled neatly by the bookshelf, ready to be taken to him. Cynder had completed it mere hours ago and hadn't felt right sending the tired bird out again in the night. She didn't imagine Rosemary got much rest, given that she and Spyro were constantly sending her backwards and forwards with letters. The thought had caused her the slightest twinge of guilt, and then a cold rush of fear that, if anything were to happen to Rosemary, she would be completely cut off from Spyro.

Upon deducing that there were no untoward intruders in her room, Cynder laid her head back on her cushion and gazed at the stars outside the window. Vaguely, she recalled broken images of a disturbing dream which she had awoken from. Maybe that was why she had awoken feeling so afraid. That creeping fear still lingered at the back of her mind, and she found herself unwilling to fall asleep again.

Something about the darkness and the silence made her feel so vulnerable. She curled up tighter and closed her eyes, trying to will herself back to sleep. There was no danger within her room or within the city. She was fine. The sooner she fell asleep, the sooner morning would come and the sooner she could send her letter to Spyro.

Her subconscious mind, however, would not be convinced. Unexplained fears flitted around her head, holding her prisoner in a state of perpetual dread. No matter how she tossed and turned and tried to stop her mind from thinking, she couldn't banish that feeling and she couldn't find sleep. Through a haze of dread and exhaustion, she latched onto a simple wish: that Spyro would be there. That he would lend her his warmth and protect her from whatever shadows and fears permeated her dreams.

If only he was. But she was alone, afraid, and sleepless.

Until the sun began to rise, washing her room in dusky blue light, Cynder drifted in and out of dozes and half-sleeps. By the time she finally gave up and let herself wake completely as the light of dawn touched her face, she felt somehow even more exhausted than she had the previous evening. It was as though she hadn't slept at all.

She could have stayed there, flaked out upon her cushion, lamenting the sleepless hours that had gone by, but the burning need to feel closer to Spyro spurred her into action. Rolling off her cushion, she picked herself up and grabbed the scroll of parchment in her tail. Rosemary was already awake, preening her feathers as she perched on the windowsill. She glanced up as Cynder approached and folded her wings, dutifully holding out one leg.

"Thank you," Cynder murmured as Rosemary gripped the scroll in her talons and, in a flurry of wind and feathers, took off out the window. The falcon soared into the slowly lightening sky, disappearing just as the first hint of the rising sun peered over the eastern wall.

Cynder sighed and stepped away from the window, gazing around her room instead. It was quite the mess. She didn't remember the last time she had tidied up the place, but she was certain it hadn't been since before Spyro had left. How long had it been now? Two months? There were a number of books scattered around the base of the bookshelf or amongst her mess of cushions, which were strewn all over the floor. She had tried to read them again, but hadn't been able to concentrate, and so they had been abandoned. Parchment littered the floor, interspersed by tiny ink stains that she doubted would ever come off the stone.

Crumpled against the left wall was a fabric wall-hanging that depicted the symbols of the five main elements. Spyro had bought it for her some time ago when he'd decided her room was too bare. In a fit of shivering a few nights ago, Cynder had torn it down to use as a blanket in an effort to pretend it was Spyro's wing that was over her shoulders. She hadn't bothered hanging it back up again.

Her stone water basin had long since dried up and she hadn't bothered asking the moles to refill it. About the only thing that looked untouched was a small tarnished metal chest by the bookshelf. There was a small pile of parchment stacked upon its closed lid, but otherwise it appeared the only speck of order amongst the chaos of her room.

Cynder approached it and hesitantly brushed the parchment away. The lid creaked slightly as she pushed it open, and she gazed down at the shimmering contents within. A silvery helm sat upon a set of similar anklets and a matching flank-guard—gifts from the Guardians from many months ago. Upon a folded fabric coat of lime green, which Spyro had given her not too long ago, lay a set of worn metal bracers. Cynder gazed at them, absently reaching her paw up to her neck, where the battered choker had once sat.

Around her neck now was a thinner silver necklet with a simple, swirling design at her throat. She hadn't taken it off since Spyro had given it to her not long before he'd left. He'd wanted her to throw her old bracers away, but she hadn't done so. She hadn't been able to bring herself to.

Even Ember had asked, only a few days ago, about the metal bracers that Cynder had once always been seen wearing. She had skirted around the subject, unwilling to bring up the story of how and what they meant to her. But as she stared at them lying unassuming in the chest, those memories returned to her.

She felt like she'd been dreaming of something similar that night, because there was something vivid about the memory of Gaul's face that flashed before her mind's eye. Cynder shuddered and closed the lid of the chest. Once she'd wanted to keep those bracers on forever, to remind her of what she'd done and what she could never allow to happen again.

It was only thanks to Spyro that she had realised that no one, not her and not the citizens of Warfang, wanted to be reminded of the Terror of the Skies. His words still rang in her head.

_We all learn from past mistakes, but the mistakes of your past were not your own. If you keep looking back, how can you ever move forward? You're more than that now._

So he'd given her that necklet and requested that she take her bracers off and throw them away. Cynder had wanted nothing more than to comply, but to get rid of the bracers entirely was not something she could do. Nobody wanted to be reminded of what she'd done, but she owed it to the many innocent families that had died at her claws not to forget them. That was what the bracers were now—a token to honour the memory of those who had fallen to the Terror of the Skies.

Cynder didn't even know if Spyro was aware she had kept them. She hoped that, if he did find out, he wouldn't be angry with her. But then, Spyro rarely got angry, and the more she thought of it, the more she realised what she feared most was upsetting him. She had already caused him pain, even several years back when she had fled from the Dragon Temple—in part convinced that she had no place amongst him and the Guardians, and in part because she had felt the pull to the Well of Souls as the Night of Eternal Darkness approached. The memory still sent shivers down her spine.

Now that there was so much more between her and Spyro, she feared all the more that she would hurt him again. Her flaws were so obvious that she wondered how he didn't see them. Or perhaps he did and was too kind to say. Sometimes she wondered if she really deserved him at all.

Cynder snorted and turned away from the chest, stalking over to the mess of cushions strewn about her room. The longer she stood there doing nothing but wondering if she was enough for Spyro, the less time she would have to clean up this mess. Pushing those uncertainties to the side, she spurred herself into action, piling the cushions back up against the wall, gathering the loose sheets of parchment, and stacking the books back on their shelf. She even tried rubbing the ink splotches off the floor with a corner of a cushion, but predictably didn't get very far.

She was just in the process of re-hanging the wall tapestry when there came a knock at her door. Over the last few weeks, Cynder had become accustomed to the types of knocks that usually came at her door. There was something different about this knock. It was not the impatient _rap-rap-rap_ of Ember's, nor the polite yet somehow nervous tapping of Flame's. This knock was slow, heavy and deliberate.

Curious and a little apprehensive, Cynder approached the door and opened it with a tiny concentrated puff of wind. She stepped back automatically when it slid open to reveal a huge green dragon standing before her. He towered over her by more than double and she had to crane her head up to see his face, which was set in perpetual grim stoicism. Few dragons grew to be as big as Terrador, and Cynder always felt small in his presence.

In a way he reminded her of Gaul, perhaps because of his gruff, deep-throated voice, or his huge battle-scarred body that spoke of countless battles both won and lost. Or perhaps it was merely the vivid emerald green of his scales, though they were duller than the poisonous acid-green gem that had replaced Gaul's lost eye. Whatever the reason, if there was ever a dragon Cynder felt uncomfortable around, it was Terrador.

"Ah..." Cynder stared up at him, stunned by his sudden appearance, her mind suddenly blank. He looked even bigger standing in the doorframe.

"Cynder," said the Earth Guardian without pause, his bright green eyes flicking down to meet hers. "Am I interrupting?"

Cynder hesitated and glanced behind her. Her room was far tidier than before, though she hadn't yet had the water basin refilled. She'd planned to do that last, but she supposed it could wait. If Terrador was there, it had to be about something important. Maybe...maybe it was about Spyro.

Her heart clenching with a sudden rush of worry, she turned back to Terrador. "No, I was just cleaning. Is there something you need?"

_Please... Don't say something has happened to Spyro._

"It is nothing serious," Terrador said, as though he had noticed her worry, "but it is important. If you would accompany me for a few hours, I need your assistance with a matter."

Abruptly, Cynder realised she had been clenching her paws and relaxed them. It was fine. Nothing had happened to Spyro. Trying not to appear too relieved, she nodded. "I didn't have anything planned today. How can I—?"

"Come with me." Terrador turned and beckoned for her to follow without so much as waiting for her to finish her question.

A little thrown off, Cynder hesitated a moment before following. As the door to her room slid shut behind her, she fell into step beside the Earth Guardian—or tried to. His huge size made keeping up with him a little difficult, as his strides were at least twice, if not three times, longer than hers. At least he took steps relatively slowly, and she fell into a kind of half-trot to keep up with him.

At first they walked in silence through the corridors of the temple and out into the streets. Cynder wasn't sure whether to speak or not, as Terrador's presence was somewhat foreboding and she couldn't figure out whether it would be more awkward to try to speak with him or to say nothing at all. At length, as they started through the streets, he was the one to break the silence.

"I assume you have been keeping in contact with Spyro?"

Cynder almost missed a step in surprise. "Y...yes. Why?"

Terrador grunted, his eyes never leaving the road ahead. "I thought as much. I can only assume he has told you of their current situation, and Cyril's...stubborn behaviour."

Only then did it occur to Cynder that Cyril was undoubtedly keeping contact with the other Guardians, just as Spyro was with her. She felt almost foolish for not realizing something so obvious sooner. "Yes... He has. He said it might be some time before he can come home, if things don't change soon."

She hadn't meant to sound so accusing, and yet the words that left her mouth carried a bitter undertone that she couldn't bite back. Terrador's eyes flicked towards her for an instant and she wilted slightly, averting her own.

"It is an unfortunate truth," he said after a moment, and she thought she heard just a hint of remorse in his deep-throated voice. "If I know Cyril at all, he will not give up so easily, and I fear that will make things harder for both himand young Spyro. But they will return in due time. For now, our own duties must continue."

Cynder frowned. "Duties? What is this about?"

Terrador grunted again and was silent for a few streets, until Cynder figured out that they seemed to be heading towards the library. Eventually, the Earth Guardian spoke again in a low voice. "We are getting old, Cynder. As Guardians we should have taken apprentices years ago, but the war prevented us from doing so. And already one of us has travelled to the Ancestors. Tradition states that the Order of the Guardians cannot be maintained without the presence of all five Guardians."

He shook his huge head slowly. "As it is, our Order has been broken since Malefor first rose to power and the Guardian of Wind fled with his subjects. Against tradition, the order was kept alive only to stand against the Dark Master and his army. Now, with the war at an end, there is no reason—and no sense—in delaying the inevitable. The Order of the Guardians must be disbanded. Even without Ignitus, we have kept it alive this past year so that the city may recover and adjust to this new age of peace. But that time is over."

"Even if Cyril succeeded in returning with the Wind Guardian, we would still be one Guardian short. As tradition dictates, we can no longer maintain our Order."

Cynder stared at him, her head spinning. Disband the Guardians? Was that even possible? Everything she had ever known about dragon civilization revolved around the Guardians, and they were the first dragons—along with Spyro—who she had met once she had been freed from her corruption. She even had vague memories of them as war-leaders during her days as Malefor's general.

Disbanding their whole Order just seemed wrong. But Terrador spoke as if it was meant to be.

"What about Spyro?" she asked, grasping at straws. "Didn't you want to train him to be a Guardian? To replace Ignitus?"

"Ignitus cannot be replaced," Terrador said grimly, "except by an apprentice he never took. Spyro is far too young to be thrust into Guardianship so soon. It will be many years before he is ready, if he should even wish to uphold the honour. Not all dragons do, Cynder. Given how close he is to you, I have my doubts that he will ever become a Guardian. You are aware of the tradition?"

Cynder opened her mouth and closed it again, stunned. She'd never even thought about it. Somehow, the knowledge that Guardians were forbidden to take mates had completely slipped her mind. A part of her had even been excited for Spyro that he might one day walk in Ignitus's footsteps. She knew how much the old Fire Guardian had meant to him. But to give up their courtship? Would he really want that?

"I forgot..."

Terrador said no more as they approached the library. It was a huge rectangular building with tall arched windows that reached almost from floor to ceiling. It was also one of the few buildings in Warfang that boasted glass windows. Before Terrador approached the huge double doors, he paused and looked down at Cynder.

"With the disbanding of our Guardian Order, Warfang will need a new authority to look towards," he said. "Tradition dictates that, in times when the Order of the Guardians cannot be maintained, a City Council will be formed. It has been some time since the last Council of Warfang was established, but I am sure the city will take to it soon enough."

"Alright," said Cynder slowly, "but what to you need me for?"

"Every council needs councildragons," Terrador explained. "It is our duty as Guardians to invite candidates, though their eventual positions will be decided upon by the citizens of Warfang. I need your assistance to find suitable dragons amongst the recent records of those living here in Warfang. Had Spyro been here, I would have asked for his assistance, but I am confident you are a good judge of character. I assume it goes without saying that this is extremely confidential."

Cynder stared. He wanted her to help him root out suitable dragons for a council? She couldn't imagine how she was supposed to help with that. How was she to know who was suitable and who was not? "Are you sure I can help?"

"Certain," he said. "I would have asked Volteer, but he is currently occupied with his own research. I will not force you if you do not feel up to this, Cynder."

Though he didn't smile when he looked at her, his eyes seemed somehow warm and trusting, and Cynder felt her apprehension drain away. "No... I'll do it."

Terrador nodded once and started towards the library doors. "Good dragon. Follow me."

Once inside the library, Terrador approached one of the worker moles, who led them to a far dark corner that Cynder had never been in before. They passed by shelves stacked with books that looked old beyond belief and arrived at a large wooden door with a huge tarnished lock. Cynder estimated Sparx could have fit his whole head in there. The mole produced an equally large key—which looked comically huge in his tiny paw—and unlocked it.

Past the wooden door was another door, this one similar to those in the temple. Terrador opened it with a blast of earth energy that caused the three white gems set around the circular doorframe to glow vibrant green. Cynder held her breath as they stepped through into a dark and dusty vault.

There were no books there. Instead, there were countless shelves that looked like honeycomb, and in each little alcove countless scrolls had been stashed, some bigger than others. Their mole guide led them to the far left, past walls of honeycomb-like shelves, and indicated one particular wall of scrolls. These were, apparently, the most recent records of the citizens of Warfang.

After informing them that the records had been updated approximately eight months previously, in the wake of the end of the war, the mole left them be and the door closed behind him. Only the light of yellow gems set in the roof and a few tiny windows that afforded little more than a glimpse of the outside world illuminated the gloom.

Terrador carefully started removing scrolls from the shelves. "We may be here for quite some time. Make yourself comfortable."

Feeling a little out of place, and a little more closed in, Cynder did so. She found a pile of old cushions in the corner and dragged one into the light from one of the windows. Accepting a pile of scrolls from Terrador, she retreated to her cushion and slowly opened the first scroll.

Time passed with agonising slowness. On each scroll was listed a number of dragons, sorted by name, all of whom had recently lived in Warfang. A short description of their appearance, element, family and known qualities were all that she had to go on. Scrawled in reddish ink below many, however, was the word 'DECEASED.' She could only assume that these dragons had died during the war. Maybe even at her claws.

Her scales crawled in the shadowy vault as she perused through list after list of dragons, both deceased and living. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for, but she made a note of those who seemed promising—and weren't already dead. Terrador had told her that only dragons over forty years were permitted to join the council, which made her job a little easier.

It wasn't until she came upon a name that she felt like she'd read before that Cynder stopped and frowned. The passage spoke of an ice dragoness named Tundra. If the name wasn't familiar enough, it claimed she was mated to a dragon named Chardos. Cynder was certain she had read that name in an earlier scroll.

Curious, though she wasn't sure why, she leafed through the scrolls she'd already read until she at last stumbled upon that name again. She skimmed over the passage, noticing only the bare details.

_Chardos. _

_Fire dragon. _

_Age 47_

_High General of the Warfang Guard._

_DECEASED._

Whoever he was, he might have made a good choice for councildragon. That was, if he had still been alive. Cynder stared at the word scrawled messily at the bottom of the passage. _Deceased_. It seemed to taunt her, glaring at her from the parchment like the eyes of some hunting beast. Whoever he was—or had been—Chardos was dead. For whatever reason, her chest clenched and she flicked back to Tundra's scroll.

No similar word was scrawled below her paragraph, which could only mean that she was still alive—or at least had been some months ago following the end of the war. Cynder stared at the parchment, hardly seeing the words that were written there. Mated to Chardos. Chardos was dead.

What was it like being left alive after your mate had died?

The morbid thought struck her like a slap and she suddenly felt ill as she gazed down at the scroll. She didn't want to know about that. She didn't want to think about what it was like to be alone, to lose the one being you loved more than even yourself, to forever wish and lament for what could have been. She didn't want to imagine what it would be like to be without Spyro.

A shudder passed from the crown of her head to the tip of her tail and, all of a sudden, an awful burning sensation took root behind her eyes. Blinking furiously, she pushed the scrolls aside and stood up. Her chest hurt. She didn't want to do this anymore. She'd had enough.

Terrador looked up as Cynder stalked past, heading for the door. There were scrolls scattered all around him, but she hardly looked.

"Is there something wrong?"

She hesitated at the doorway. "Just...just need some fresh air."

"Very well. Knock when you return and I shall let you back in."

Relieved he hadn't noticed her distress, Cynder slipped through the door—which opened at her approach—and back out into the main library. Without looking back, she walked swiftly through the library, ignoring the dragons browsing through the shelves, and headed for the exit. No one tried to stop her, to her great relief, and she took a great shaky breath as she stepped outside into the cool breeze.

For a moment she stood there, letting the gentle wind play across her features, her eyes prickling and her chest tight. What was wrong with her? It wasn't like her to be so affected by something so small. Whoever those dragons were, she didn't know them and never had. They had nothing to do with her and Spyro.

But she could not shake the thought—could not banish that awful image of losing Spyro. What if he never came back from the northern temple? What if that time they had embraced before he'd turned and flown off into the sky had been the last time she would ever see him? What if she was forced to spend the rest of her days staring into the sky, hoping he would return but knowing he never would?

A lump formed in her throat and she sat down outside the library, taking shuddering gasps in a feeble attempt to steady herself. Why? Why couldn't she get that image out of her head? If Spyro never came back... A cold wave spread through her. She would spend the rest of her life wondering and yearning for what might have been. Everything she had would crumble.

He was everything to her.

He had to come back.


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

"Cynder..." His hot breath tickled her neck as he pulled her further into his embrace. "You know I love you, right?"

Dazed, she tilted her head until it came to rest against his shoulder and he pulled her closer. His chest and underbelly pressed warmly against her back as he circled his forelegs around her, pulling her tight and holding her close. He lay almost on his back, slightly turned to his side, his tail coiled tightly around hers.

Through a haze of misty white, Cynder could see his violet paws pressing possessively around her chest. She reclined against him, her thoughts lost in a haze of contentment. He was so warm. This was where she wanted to be.

"I know," she felt herself say through the haze. "I love you... I love you so much."

He nuzzled her neck, his soft scales sliding over hers in a gentle caress that sent warm shivers through her body. "I know."

His whisper tickled the scales behind her jaw as, slowly, he began to knead her chest. Push and pull, push and pull; every movement caressing her soft magenta scales. She uttered a throaty hum of pleasure, placing her paws slowly over his, curling her talons. This was good. She had missed this so much. But he was here...he was finally here with her again.

He murmured something in her ear. She almost heard it, but it seemed far away and muffled by something. A groan left her mouth and she rolled her head slightly, trying to be closer to him. Fabric brushed her cheek and her eyes opened.

For a moment she lay still, lost in a half-sleeping daze, as her room slowly came back into focus. It was early morning. She was in her room, spread out across her cushions. Spyro was nowhere to be seen.

Slowly, Cynder raised her paws to her chest. She could almost still feel his paws softly kneading her scales and the warmth of his underbelly pressed to her back. An awful pressing sense of loneliness weighed down on her whole body and she rolled onto her back, still dazed from sleep. The patterns and faults of her ceiling met her tired gaze.

Alone.

She was alone.

It had only been a dream. But it had felt so real... So right. Where was his warmth now when she needed it? She felt cold and empty, and her room was too big for her alone.

A dull ache filled her whole body, a heavy weight dragging at her every scale. She was useless. She could do nothing to change this.

It had been about a week since Terrador had asked for her assistance in the matter of the Council of Warfang. Cynder had started dreaming of Spyro in the last few days. She wasn't sure why now, but often when she closed her eyes at night she would dream that they were together again. At least once, these dreams had been less than innocent. Warm shivers still tingled down her spine at the thought.

But they weren't real, and when she awoke Cynder found that she yearned for him all the more. There was something so lonely about waking to an empty room. Though Spyro didn't always spend nights in her room, she still remembered fondly the many mornings she'd awoken with him beside her. It had felt so right, somehow.

All she wanted was to feel that again.

Just like she had the last few mornings, Cynder lay for as long as she could, dwelling on that suffocating sense of loneliness, until guilt forced her to get up. She'd promised to meet Flame and Ember at the gardens that morning, and the last few times her reluctance to get up in the morning had resulted in arriving late. Flame never seemed unduly bothered, though he always looked a little relieved when she turned up, but Ember never failed to chew her out.

Cynder found herself expecting nothing less as, some twenty minutes later, she made her way through the streets of Warfang towards the gardens. They were situated right in the middle of the city, consisting of pockets of trees, plant life and open parks dissected by a network of interweaving pathways. Cynder made her way through the eastern entrance towards the agreed-upon meeting place—a small park shaded by a large willow tree. As she expected, Flame and Ember were already there, sitting beneath it.

"You're late again," Ember said plainly as Cynder approached. She was stretched out on her belly with her chin on her paws, and didn't even raise her head in greeting. But her eyes flicked up to follow Cynder's progress until she came to halt in front of her.

"Sorry," Cynder offered, looking away. The rest of the park was void of life and the grass looked as though it had been undisturbed for some time. She waited for Ember's usual spiel about tardiness and 'respecting her friends', but after a moment of silence, she realised it wasn't coming.

When Cynder looked back again, she found the siblings watching her without saying a word. Her scales prickled uncomfortably and something about their expressions didn't sit right with her. There was no relief on Flame's face this time—only worry—and she could see the faintest hint of concern through Ember's usual disapproving mask. Though the back of her neck crawled, Cynder forced herself to hold Ember's gaze.

"What is it?" she asked at last.

"Just wondering," said Ember. "Why do you keep doing this?"

"Doing what?" Cynder tightened her jaw and caught herself just before she averted her eyes. She would not look away this time. Not until Ember did.

Ember's frown deepened. "Being late. Hardly speaking. Always distracted. You never smile anymore. Don't think we haven't noticed."

"You've been like this for, what, a week?" Flame added, frowning. "Something's got to you and it's making you withdraw. Whatever it is, it's upsetting you."

"You could at least speak with us," said Ember with a flat stare.

Cynder stared at them both, a little affronted as the urge to defend herself rose in her chest. From the sounds of it, the siblings had rehearsed this little speech and had been waiting for the right time to deliver it. That also meant they'd been talking about her behind her back. A prickle of annoyance stabbed at her gut and she clenched her paws, daring herself not to look away from their interrogating gazes. Did they really think they knew better than her about her own wellbeing?

"I'm fine," she said sharply, flicking her gaze between them. "There's nothing wrong. I just haven't felt very sociable lately."

It wasn't a lie; not really. For the last week she'd found herself overly sensitive towards the smallest of things, and had desired her own company over that of others almost as much as she had in darker days passed. Brooding in solitude had been a favourite pastime of the Terror of the Skies, and as her mood worsened with the continued absence of Spyro, she found herself falling back into old habits. Everyone and everything made her irritated. She didn't want their pitying looks and their feeble attempts to make her feel better.

"_That's_ easy to believe." Ember's mouth thinned and she slowly pushed herself into a seated position. Even then, the top of her head was only level with the centre of Cynder's chest, but she didn't seem bothered by her short stature. She glared up at Cynder. "But I want to know _why_."

She punctuated her final word with sharp jab to the centre of Cynder's chest with her tailspade. Though the heart-shaped spade was blunt at the tip, it still caused a jolt of dull pain through her sensitive magenta scales. Frowning, Cynder fell back slightly, lifting her paw to her chest.

"It's got nothing to do with you," she said, scowling down at Ember. "I'd just rather be left alone."

"But why?" Flame asked as Ember puffed out her cheeks like an angry fish. He stepped a little closer, looking more concerned than frustrated. "You weren't like this a week ago. What happened? What upset you?"

"Nothing," said Cynder.

Flame looked momentarily flustered to be so bluntly shot down, but Ember's eyes flashed and she got to her feet. "Don't lie to us. We _know_ there's something up."

Irritation prickled along her spine again, fiercer this time, and Cynder pierced the dirt with her talons. She'd had enough of this interrogation. "I do not care what you think you know. What is going on in my life is my concern, not yours. If I wish for solitude, then that is my choice."

"But it's not—!"

"Enough!" Cynder snapped, glaring Ember down before she could even finish her rebuke. Anger broiled in her chest but she forced it down. "We're not speaking of this any longer. If you wish to help at all, you will not persist and you will not bring it up again!"

Ember opened her mouth as though she was about to argue, but seemed to think better of it. Her eyes steely, she clenched her jaw and sat down again, the corners of her mouth turned down. Flame seemed to waver on the verge of pressing on, but as Cynder shot him a look he averted his eyes and said nothing. Feeling somehow displeased despite her 'victory', Cynder sat beside them.

A very stony silence fell over them, and the only sound was the breeze teasing the drooping willow branches into a kind of mournful dance. Cynder scowled at her paws and wondered why her friends thought it was a good idea to pry into her private life. It had nothing to do with them.

They didn't realise what it was like, waiting for Spyro day in and day out, not knowing when he was coming home, if ever... A shudder crawled down the back of her neck and she hugged her wings tighter to her flanks. They didn't know what it was like to feel that crushing sense of loneliness; to be able to do nothing about the burning longing that pervaded her restless nights.

They didn't know. Why did they care?

The day passed slowly after that. Ember seemed irritable and Cynder caught Flame just watching her out of the corner of her eye more times than she would have liked. Both of them seemed like they had more to say but didn't dare say it lest they incur her anger. Somehow, just knowing that fact was enough to make her frustrated. Any attempts at conversation fell short, though Flame tried his best to keep things friendly. His voice wavered slightly whenever he spoke to Cynder.

Eventually, when they had come to a mutual but unspoken agreement near midday that it was better they part ways, Cynder bid them farewell and left for the temple. That moment of goodbyes was stiff and awkward, and it seemed Ember was far from forgiving her for whatever she'd done wrong. As Cynder turned to leave, Flame called after her. "We'll see you again soon, right?"

Cynder paused on the pathway, gazing ahead. After today, she wasn't sure she wanted to see anyone for a while. She glanced over her shoulder. "Maybe."

Flame's countenance seemed to droop slightly and Ember looked away, but not before Cynder caught her pout. Feeling less than satisfied, Cynder turned away. If they wanted to act like she'd wronged them somehow, that was their issue. As far as she was concerned, she had done nothing wrong. So what if she was a little late a few times?

A small voice in her head told her it was more than that, but she pushed it away. She was doing nothing wrong.

* * *

The following few mornings were startlingly similar. Cynder didn't always wake from dreams of Spyro, but that crushing feeling of loneliness was always there. When she did dream of him, the memories she had of those dreams were vague and foggy. Part of her was afraid that she was forgetting what Spyro even looked like. What his voice sounded like. What it was like to hold him and be held.

It terrified her. She felt like she was expected to continue a life without him, but she couldn't bring herself to start down that road. For now, it felt like she was in a kind of limbo, unable to continue living, unable to go back and relive those memories that were all she had now of Spyro. She needed him to come back.

Every day seemed harder than the last. Cynder felt distant from everyone and everything. It had been over two months since she had seen Spyro, and no way of knowing when she would see him again. She had nothing to hold onto; nothing but those distant memories of him.

Flame and Ember seemed increasingly worried and frustrated—at times, Cynder wasn't sure which. When Cynder started avoiding them, tired of their attempts to pry into her psyche, she soon found them waiting at her door every morning. A small part of her was grateful for their company, but their insistence not to leave her alone quickly began to grate on her nerves. All she wanted was to be left in solitude with her thoughts and memories of Spyro.

Eventually, Cynder woke one morning to find Rosemary once again perched on her windowsill. A rush of excitement surged through her and she couldn't get over to the window fast enough. When the scroll was safely in her trembling paws, she turned away and unrolled it as quickly as she could without tearing it. Just the sight of his tail-writing was enough to make her relax.

_Cynder_

_A lot has happened since I last wrote. You'll never believe what I found out. I won't keep you in suspense. Wirrin is Avgustin's son. I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner. They have the same grey scales, the same green eyes, even the same horn shape. I guess I just never really looked at them properly. I feel kind of foolish._

_At least it's a good thing I didn't take Wirrin up on his offer. I might be wrong, but I get the feeling that his father set him up to get to know me—to see if I'm anything like Malefor, I suppose. That might have been a test, and if it was, I seem to have passed it. Of course, I could be wrong and he was only being friendly behind his father's back. I don't feel right to ask._

_But things might be looking up. Avgustin has decided to give me a chance, thanks to Wirrin. It looks like there's still a long way to go, but at least they're not treating me like a prisoner any longer. He's been giving me all sorts of tasks to judge my character, and I don't know how long they'll continue. Maybe Avgustin will even decide to teach me the wind element when all this is done._

_Unfortunately, he and Cyril still aren't on speaking terms. Cyril's efforts to gain the trust of the wind dragons behind Avgustin's back haven't gone well, either. Recently he's started shutting himself in his room and doesn't come out except for meals. I think he's researching, but I don't know what._

_Sparx is the same as ever, at least. He still calls Avgustin 'Old Gusty', even to his face now. Surprisingly, he doesn't seem to mind much. I think he almost likes Sparx. Weird, right?_

_Look at me, rambling about myself. Your letter scared me, Cynder. I don't ever want you to feel like you don't belong. You're a beautiful dragoness and I wouldn't want to court anyone else. Don't ever think otherwise._

_And I promise, I promise with all my heart, that I WILL come home to you. We will be together again, no matter what it takes. I'm always thinking about you too. I'll be home soon to hold you, I promise. But for now, know that you're in my thoughts, and I know I'm in yours, and that is enough to keep us connected._

_I can't wait to see you again. You're my everything, and I want to be yours. I'll love you forever._

_Spyro_

As usual, when she reached the end, Cynder read it over again once more. Her face felt warm and her heart was pounding with hope and excitement. Finally. Finally, things were changing. Even if he was still a long way from returning to Warfang, it sounded like he was finally on the right track. In the wake of that surge of excitement, a bubbly, giddy feeling bloomed in her chest. Feeling lighter than she had in weeks, Cynder hurriedly gathered her own parchment and ink to make a reply.

She was just writing Spyro's name at the top of the parchment when there came an impatient knocking at her door. A splotch of ink appeared beside his name and Cynder placed the quill down carefully, shooting an annoyed look over her shoulder. Only Ember knocked like that. For a moment she considered not answering at all, but a further series of impatient rapping sounds convinced her otherwise.

Trying not to appear too annoyed, Cynder got up and stalked over to the door. Predicably, when it opened, Ember's pearly pink face was staring up at her. Flame stood behind her, looking a little worried until their eyes met and he smiled. Cynder didn't smile back.

"Cyn—!"

"Sorry," Cynder said quickly, cutting Ember off before she could get started. "I'm a little busy at the moment. I'll be out later."

She half turned away, too impatient to say any more. They should have caught the hint by now, and yet they still insisted on turning up at her door. Why now? Why on this morning? Why couldn't they have just skipped a day and let her reply to Spyro in peace?

"Wait!" Ember demanded. "Don't just shut the door in our faces! Do you have any idea how rude that is?"

Cynder shot a fierce look over her shoulder, her irritation rising. Maybe if Ember hadn't done this every morning for the last week, she might have felt more inclined to listen to her. "You're trying my patience, Ember. I thought I made it clear last time that I've had enough of you forcing your company upon me. I _want_ to be left alone."

Ember wrinkled her snout and her stance stiffened, a sure sign of arguments to come. Cynder had half a mind to shut the door and cut her off even before she'd begun. But the brewing storm in Ember's eyes never broke and instead she shot a strange look at Flame, as though giving him a wordless order that Cynder didn't understand. Flame sighed and met Cynder's eyes resolutely.

"Look, I know we've been pretty insistent lately," he said, his expression wavering slightly as Cynder narrowed her eyes. "And I'm sorry. We haven't really been going about this right, and that's why we're here this morning. To fix things."

"In other words," Ember said fiercely as Cynder opened her mouth to tell them to leave. "There's something we need to talk about."

"Whatever it is," Cynder shot back, her impatience rising to dangerous levels, "it can wait. I'm busy."

"Busy doing what?" Ember insisted, her voice rising with frustration. "It can't be so important that you can't spare a few minutes just to listen to us!"

"It's important," Flame added, uncharacteristically serious and calm.

Cynder clenched her jaw and shot a look over her shoulder. Spyro's letter lay by the window on the floor beside her unstarted reply, and Rosemary was preening her wings on the windowsill. A few minutes? She knew it wouldn't hurt to postpone her reply for a few minutes, but in those seconds she'd spent arguing with Flame and Ember, the feelings she'd experienced in the moment of reading Spyro's letter had started to trickle away.

She'd waited for weeks for this letter to come. She wanted to hold onto those feelings that his letter had risen in her chest, at least for a little while, and already they were falling away like sand between her talons. Irritation festered in her gut.

"Come back in an hour," she said, levelling a flat glare on the siblings. She could deal with them later. "We'll talk then."

Cynder turned away before she'd even seen their reactions, ignoring Ember as she called her name. She stepped away, but the door didn't slide shut as it should have, and she glanced back to find Ember standing in the doorway. There was a fierce, angry look on her childish face. "What is so important that you can't even spare us a minute?!"

"Just leave!" Cynder snapped, her patience finally reaching breaking point. She'd had enough. "Why do you think whatever you have to say is so important that it can't wait?"

"Because we're worried about you!" Flame stepped forward, joining his sister in the doorway, the apprehension gone from his face.

Cynder opened her mouth to respond—to tell them that they had no reason or right to worry about her—but Ember beat her to it. "You spend all of your time hiding away in your room like you're afraid of sunlight! We try to help you but you just shoot us down and now you've started avoiding us! You never smile, you never laugh, you're always distracted and irritable, and you won't even listen to us!"

"We know there's something wrong," Flame continued without missing a beat, and Cynder wondered how many times they'd practised this little speech before coming here. She grit her teeth and endured it. "We've kept coming here every morning hoping to cheer you up, thinking that eventually you'll open up to us and we'll be able to help you with whatever it is that's got you down. But you just keep shutting us out and we don't know what else to do."

"You're our friend, Cynder!" said Ember. "We want to help you and we want to be there for you, but we can't do anything if you just keep shutting yourself away! This isn't good for you! What would Spyro think if he knew about this?"

Ember shut her mouth and silence fell, and Cynder saw from the looks on their faces that they thought they'd made their point. Cynder chewed on nothing as she mulled over how to reply, a dangerous cocktail of frustration and irritation churning within her. What would Spyro think? All of a sudden, the answer to that question didn't matter. More importantly, what made Ember and Flame think they knew how Spyro would feel? They didn't know anything about him. They had nothing to do with him.

And how dare they try to turn the situation on its head, to antagonize her? It was as if they thought _she_ was the one who was in the wrong, and yet _they_ were the ones who insisted on prying into things that had nothing to do with them. How dare they try to talk her down when she had done nothing to warrant this? Angry heat constricted her head and Cynder closed her eyes, willing it down. She would not stoop to their level by deflecting angry remarks back at them.

"Just go," she said coldly, clenching her talons against the floor. "You've said enough."

"Apparently we haven't if that's all you're going to say!" Ember snapped.

Cynder felt something in her chest snap, like a twig that had been bent too far. Heat coursed through her veins and she glared at Ember through a haze of red. "I said, go! Get out of my room! You've said your piece and now I'd like to get back to something more important, like writing to Spyro! My Spyro! The Spyro I haven't seen in months! The Spyro you've never met! Don't pretend you know what he's like! Just get out!"

Ember took a step back, surprise flashing briefly across her face, and then wilted slightly. "You're writing to him?"

"That's why you couldn't spare time to talk to us?" Flame cut in, and Cynder shot a glare his way, bristling at the accusation in his tone. "That's what was so important? It's just a letter! It's not like it can't wait for a few minutes."

Cynder grit her teeth long enough to get a hold on the worst of her anger, but the words that left her lips were still laced with venom. "Apparently you don't know what it's like to be apart from someone you love."

"Alright, maybe we should come back later..." Ember started to say, her bravado wilting in the face of Cynder's anger.

But Flame, it seemed, was suddenly on a roll. He scowled at Cynder and took a step forward, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate. "Well, if it hurts you this much, why are you still trying?"

His words hit like a slap. Cynder stood rooted to the spot, all her anger and frustration fleeing from her head. She could hardly reconcile what she'd just heard—what Flame of all dragons had just said. Almost of its own accord, her gaze shifted across to Ember, who was staring at her brother with a mixture of horror and fear. Ember's lips moved to form his name, but Cynder hardly heard her demanding hiss.

"What..." she heard herself say, her head spinning as it tried to pin her wayward emotions down. She met Flame's eyes and was, for a moment, struck dumb by the stern defiance of his expression. Then anger crawled back through her veins, slowly at first, a rising tide of red-hot water.

Whether he didn't notice her distress or was simply too wrapped up in his own head to care, Flame didn't stop there. "This is why you've been shutting yourself away, isn't it? This is what's been upsetting you. It's too obvious not to be. You spend all your time staring off into the distance or avoiding everyone else and locking yourself away in solitude, and why? Because you can't stop mourning after him? Why do you keep holding onto it if it hurts you this much?"

"Flame!" Ember hissed again, sounding nothing short of aghast. Through the pounding blood behind her eyes, Cynder could almost hear Ember's unspoken words. _'What are you saying?_ _This isn't what we rehearsed!'_

Cynder swallowed hard and shook her head, trying to calm herself enough to rebuke. But Flame continued even as she opened her mouth to tell him to 'shut up.' Heat rose to her cheeks and her heart pounded as his words washed over her.

"I don't get it!" he said, stamping one paw. "You say you're in love, but is it really worth it if it hurts you this much? How do you even know if things will be the same when he comes back? He might not be back for months! This is just... You can't just lock yourself away from society! You can't keep avoiding us! We're _here_ for you!"

"Just..." Flame groaned and shook his head, lowering his gaze for a moment. Cynder could hear her heart pounding in her ears, but she was frozen to the spot. At length, Flame looked up again, his eyes softer than before. "You're amazing. But you're hurting yourself over something like this and I don't understand why. Why don't you just...let it go? This courtship is obviously bringing you more pain than what it's worth. You can't live like this."

Worry in his eyes, Flame reached his paw towards her. What should have been a gesture of comfort made Cynder bristle defensively and all of a sudden she didn't want him to touch her. Anger flared in her gut and her eyes stung. She opened her mouth to say something but couldn't find the words, and instead mouthed silently as all her fear and fury writhed in her chest.

In a quick, violent motion, she slapped his paw away with her own and stepped back. Flame snatched his paw back, looking startled and perhaps a little frightened, and Cynder felt a rush of satisfaction in the face of his fear. She hardly noticed Ember anymore, standing frozen in the doorway with her eyes darting frantically between her and Flame.

Cynder opened her mouth without really knowing what she was going to say, ignoring the stinging of her eyes. The words that slipped past her lips sounded somehow distant, as though someone else had spoken them. "Get out."

Flame opened his mouth to say something, but Ember nudged him hard with her shoulder and he stumbled to the side, shooting his sister a frightened look. She seemed to be shaking and she didn't even look at Cynder.

"Go," she hissed, nudging him again. "Let's go."

"But..." Flame started, shooting another glance at Cynder. He seemed to wilt as their eyes met and Cynder didn't look away. She wanted him to see everything—all of her anger and fury that his words had caused. He swallowed visibly.

"Let's go," Ember snarled, ramming her horns into his side.

Flame stumbled again but caught himself before he collided with the doorframe. With one last frightened look at Cynder, he turned and hurried into the corridor. Ember followed, shooting a brief glance over her shoulder. Whether she looked frightened or just sad, Cynder couldn't tell. Then the door slid shut, muffling the sounds of their pawsteps hurrying back down the corridor.

Cynder stood for a moment, anger still pulsing through her veins, and only when she blinked did she realise her eyes were wet. Furious, she swiped a paw across them and spun away from the door. On trembling paws, she swept across the room and grabbed the first thing her vengeful claws could reach—one of her sleeping cushions. With a scream of rage, she flung it at the wall, but it merely bounced off with a harmless, quiet thud. Enraged at the unsatisfactory outcome of her act of violence, Cynder flung herself at the pillow and wrenched it apart with her claws.

The fabric parted almost willingly under the onslaught of her talons, and feathery down was scattered everywhere as Cynder clawed and kicked with every ounce of fury she had. It wasn't enough. She hated it. She hated everything. Picking up the mangled remnants of the cushion, she flung it at the wall again and screamed an orb of fear after it. The crimson orb promptly exploded upon colliding with the cushion and the wall, and Cynder's vision was momentarily filled with red.

Panting heavily and scoring the floor with her talons, Cynder glared through the red haze until it faded, leaving behind a faint scorch mark on the wall and the shredded remnants of her sleeping cushion—a little charred at the edges. She snorted and snarled at the mangled remains, for a moment wanting nothing more than to destroy another, until the worst of her anger began to fade. It trickled out of her like water between stones and Cynder let her shoulders relax as she returned to her senses.

Whatever murderous intentions she'd had in that moment evaporated, and she was left standing quietly, staring at the destruction she had caused. It could no longer be called a cushion. Feeling suddenly foolish, Cynder sat down and stared at the scraps of fabric and feathery down scattered around her paws. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away and looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep, shaky breath.

What was wrong with her? She hadn't meant to get so mad. But Flame's words had just...

Cynder rubbed her eyes with the back of her paw and sighed. Everything he'd said came back to her in the wake of her surge of rage, and she shuddered as his words played over in her head.

_Let it go. _

_You can't live like this._

She gripped the remains of the cushion between her talons, crushing them in her paw. He was wrong. No amount of pain could make her give up on Spyro—he was worth more than that. So much more.

"Stupid," she whispered to her paws. Flame was stupid. He didn't understand at all.

There was no point in giving up on Spyro. She had waited this long. And what of the months they'd already spent together? It would all mean nothing if she let him go now. That wouldn't make her happy; if anything, it would remove the one thing that made life worth living. Spyro was everything to her.

"He'll come back," she told herself, glancing back at the letter still lying beside the window. In a sudden rush of fear, she glanced up at the windowsill, afraid she'd scared Rosemary off in her fit of anger. But the falcon was still perched there, head tucked under her wing as though she had somehow slept through the whole thing.

Cynder sighed and sat down, reaching for her unstarted letter. She stared at the parchment for a moment, still aching with the memory of Flame's words, and set it down again. There was no use trying to write to Spyro like this. Her letter would only sound angry and distressed, and she didn't want to make him worry like that. Not again. Not when things were starting to look up for him.

She shifted her gaze out the open window and gazed at the sky. Heavy clouds were rolling in, turning the world grey and threatening rain. Cynder rested her head on the windowsill and watched Rosemary sleep, half admiring the silky grey-brown feathers on her back. If only she was a falcon too. Maybe then she could make the trip to the north and see Spyro with her own eyes. Everything would be better then.

How much more of this was she supposed to endure? Even her own friends were against her.

Cynder closed her eyes. "Please... Come back soon."

* * *

At some point, Cynder must have fallen into a doze, because she opened her eyes to find it was suddenly almost midday. Rosemary was nowhere to be seen and she felt a sudden surge of fear before she spotted the falcon wheeling in from above, something dangling from her talons. It was only when she landed that Cynder saw it was a dead mouse. Expelling a sigh of relief, she turned away from the window and looked down at Spyro's letter.

Though the memory of Flame's words still hurt, Cynder felt calmer than before and she no longer felt like wrenching cushions apart. After glancing remorsefully at the destroyed cushion which she had yet to clean up, she picked up Spyro's letter and read over it again. As she did, her nerves settled a little more and, by the time she finished, she was almost smiling again. Setting the letter down, she picked up her quill with her tail and turned to her own parchment.

The words flowed easily.

_Spyro_

_I'm glad things seem to be getting better for you. Like you said, it's a good thing you didn't take Wirrin up on his offer. Though, perhaps it's just me, but I hope your suspicions are wrong and he wasn't just sent by his father to spy on you. That's so unjust I don't even know where to begin. If 'Old Gusty' wanted to get to know you, he should have just done so himself. I can't believe the nerve of some dragons._

_What sort of tasks does he have you do? I hope they're nothing dangerous, though I'm sure you're more than capable to take anything he throws at you. All the same, I hope it's nothing too difficult. I wish I could be there to help. All you need now is to get Cyril to stop sulking in his room._

_Things are alright here, I guess. I'm sorry about that last letter. I'm alright, I promise. It's just hard being without you. I have dreams about you sometimes. Sometimes they're a little...well, you know. I wish they were real. I feel like I miss you more every day._

_I have something interesting to tell you this time, though. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to tell you, but I don't see why I shouldn't be. Terrador came to ask for my help not too long ago. This might come as a shock, but he's planning to disband the Order of the Guardians. It's against tradition to continue without all of the Guardians present, see. And with Ignitus gone and no one able to replace him, they don't have much choice._

_Terrador wanted my help with finding dragons to start up a Council of Warfang. We had to look through these dusty old scrolls of all the dragons currently living in the city. It took a long time, but he's sent out the invitations to the dragons we chose. I can only hope my input was helpful, even though I didn't really know what to look for._

Cynder hesitated, hovering the quill above the parchment as a question she'd wanted to ask not long ago suddenly returned to the forefront of her mind. It had come to light during her talk with Terrador, though that seemed like ages ago now, and she'd been agonising over it ever since. Maybe now was the time to address it. Asking him was the only way she could get closure—whatever his answer was to be.

Sighing, Cynder started writing again.

_But there was something I wanted to ask you, Spyro. You don't have to answer yet if you don't want you, but I feel like it's important...to both of us. Do you think you would ever take the chance to become a Guardian? It would be several years down the track from what Terrador said, but...would you?_

She paused again, wondering if she should elaborate. He knew about the traditions as well as she did. He'd understand why she was asking, wouldn't he? She couldn't find any way of elaborating without making it sound like she was asking 'would you choose Guardianship over me?' It sounded so accusing in her head and she couldn't bring herself to write more.

Shaking her head slowly, she left the paragraph be. He would understand.

_I'm still waiting for you to come home. What do you think we'll do first when we're together again? I can't wait to hold you again. I think I'd like you to sleep in my room that night. _

_I just want you to know that I love you. And I really mean it. Good luck, Spyro. I trust you, and I believe in you._

_Cynder_

She read over the letter three times before she was satisfied with it. Her stomach churned as she watched Rosemary fly off into the distance with it, knowing the reply could never come soon enough. Until it did, she wouldn't know what was going on in Spyro's head. Until it did, she wouldn't know if he was still entertaining the idea of becoming a Guardian.

But surely...surely he would rather stay with her?

Cynder shivered and curled her tail around herself, watching the grey clouds hanging above Warfang. Everything would be alright once Spyro came back. Wouldn't it?


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

In the week following Flame's outburst, Cynder didn't see much of the siblings at all. She wasn't sure whether to feel relieved about this or not, but it made the days lonelier and it seemed to make the hours pass even slower. Her days were spent alone in her room, where she discovered a small source of entertainment in the way of sketching on spare scraps of parchment. She had never tried to sketch before, and the pictures she tried to form never quite looked like they had in her head, but at least while she was sketching she didn't feel quite as alone.

Perhaps it was because her mind was occupied, or perhaps somewhere inside her subconscious she felt like the sketches she drew were keeping her company, but whatever the reason, sketching helped her forget for at least a moment that Spyro wasn't there beside her. She tried sketching Spyro from memory, and even though it didn't really look like him, it made her feel a little less wistful. Charcoal and parchment were no replacement for physical company, however.

In the late afternoons, when Cynder was too tired to do much, she found herself gazing out the window at the city below. These times felt like the loneliest, and she berated herself for doing mostly nothing with her day. After the first few days, she realized she missed Ember and Flame. Even if he _had_ said some stupid, hurtful things. Anything was better than this silence.

On the sixth evening of her self-imposed solitude, Cynder sat by her windowsill and wondered if Spyro was thinking of her. The celestial moons were bright and clear that night, glowing above Warfang like huge mismatched eyes. She wondered if he could see them too from the northern temple.

What would it be like when he finally returned? For the last two months, she had clung to the belief that everything would be back to normal when he came home, that they would fall back into their old routine like nothing had changed. But they were both young and growing, and Cynder couldn't help but wonder how Spyro could have changed during his time with the wind dragons. Maybe she wouldn't be enough for him any longer. He was the purple dragon, after all. The saviour of the realms.

What more was she than the reformed servant of Malefor? It felt like she hadn't changed at all in the year since the Dark Master's fall. She was still the same Cynder. Still as uncomfortable around other dragons as she had been since her days at the Dragon Temple. Still haunted by nightmares of what she had once been. Still unsure what the world expected of her and what to expect of herself.

Everyone in the city had a place to be. They had family, friends, love and ambitions. What did she have? She wasn't even sure any longer.

With a quiet sigh, Cynder rested her chin on the windowsill and gazed at the horizon. She wanted to be something. She wanted to change somehow, to be something more than a useless dragoness in the shadow of the Terror of the Skies. She wanted to surprise Spyro when he returned, to show him that she was worthy of his love. To _feel_ worthy.

But the night was so cold and empty, and she didn't know what to do.

* * *

Cynder was awoken by an impatient _rap-rap-rap_ at her door. Startled by the familiar knock that she hadn't heard in a few days, she jerked her head up and stared at the door, wondering if she'd dreamt it. A beat of silence passed and then it sounded again. Tingling with a strange mixture of nerves and excitement, Cynder clambered to her paws and stumbled over to open the door.

"Hey," Ember said the moment it slid open, a bored look on her face. She craned her head around Cynder as though to check that no one else was in the room. "Let me in."

Cynder stared. She looked around Ember, checking each side of the corridor, but there was no sign of Flame. Ember rolled her eyes and huffed.

"I snuck away from him at the marketplace," she said. "He's probably freaking out right now. Come on, let me in."

A little bemused by her blunt behaviour, Cynder stepped aside and allowed Ember into her room. The door slid shut after she stepped through and for a moment she stood there, casting her gaze around the place. Unsure what to say, Cynder stood awkwardly by the door and waited for Ember to say something. At length, the little pink dragoness glanced sideways at her.

"Cleaner than I expected," she said plainly.

Cynder didn't know what to say to that, but Ember didn't seem to require a response. She turned around and faced Cynder fully, her bright blue eyes oddly serious. "I'm sorry Flame's an idiot."

Cynder opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again when she realised she didn't know what to say. She frowned and shook her head. He wasn't that much of an idiot. He was just too quick to say what was on his mind. Too tactless and...

"I think he likes you," Ember continued, her voice and expression unchanging.

For a moment, Cynder wasn't sure she'd heard correctly.

"He just doesn't know how to show it, except by being jealous and stupid." Ember rolled her eyes again and shifted her stance so that she looked a little more relaxed. "He wasn't trying to make you feel bad. We're both a bit worried, but I don't think he's got the right idea. I mean, dragons don't just give up on love that easily. Right?"

"R...right," Cynder murmured, feeling a little windswept. Flame? That didn't make any sense. "Listen, Ember, thank you for apologising for him...but are you sure? I mean, Flame _can't_ like me."

She shrugged. "Why not? You're awesome, you can stand up for yourself, you're beautiful, and you won the heart of the purple dragon himself. That's got to count for something. Sure, you're a few years older than him, but that's not going to stop a crush."

"But..." Cynder shook her head, trying to wrap her head around it. "What does courting Spyro have to do with this? Shouldn't that just...scare him off?"

"Didn't you know?" A smirk came to Ember's lips. "Being unavailable just makes you all the more _desirable_. It's a bit stupid, but it's true. Helps that Spyro isn't even _here_, y'know."

She heaved an exaggerated sigh and a wistful look came over her face. "When I still had a crush on Spyro, you have no idea how jealous I was when I heard the rumours that you two were courting. I wanted him _sooo_ badly after that. Then I realised I was being kind of stupid, since I didn't really know him at all, anyway. And besides, I think you're a cute couple."

Cynder didn't respond, her face a little hot in the wake of Ember's confession. It kind of worried her to think that another dragoness had been pining after Spyro's affections back then. And yet he had chosen her. Then her thoughts abruptly sling-shotted back to Flame and she couldn't help but grimace. If that was true...

"What do I do?" she asked.

"About Flame?" Ember pulled an odd face that looked as though she was thinking about something unpleasant. "Nothing. Just keep going as you are. He'll get over it. When Spyro comes back, he'll realise how pointless his little crush is."

"But I don't want to hurt him," Cynder muttered, looking away. It still didn't make sense. She couldn't fathom why Flame would like her at all.

"Well, you don't want to give up on Spyro either, do you?"

She whipped her gaze back to Ember. "Of course not!"

Ember shrugged nonchalantly. "There's your answer. Flame's crush is doomed anyway. So just let it go."

Silence prevailed for a little while after that, and Cynder gazed towards the window, wishing more than ever that Spyro was back. This wasn't a revelation she had expected to hear, and somehow it made her both nervous and uncertain. Flame was supposed to be a friend, nothing more. She couldn't imagine ever thinking otherwise. When she thought of loving someone in that way, Spyro's face always came to mind. That wasn't going to change.

"So yeah..." Ember seemed to hesitate, glancing at Cynder sidelong and shuffling her paws. "About last week... I'm sorry we got a little overbearing."

It sounded like a grudging apology and yet Cynder knew from the look in Ember's eyes that it was genuine. She opened her mouth to thank her, but the words died on her tongue. Guilt flared in her chest out of nowhere. For the last few days, when she'd had nothing else to do, she had sat and wondered why things between her and her friends had gone sour so suddenly. The answer had come to her slowly, and she hadn't wanted to believe it, but as she gazed at Ember now, she couldn't deny it.

"I'm sorry too," Cynder said after a moment, averting her eyes. She rolled words around in her head, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Somehow, she couldn't help but feel reluctant in this apology. Maybe it was just guilt that was eating at her. "I shouldn't have treated you like that. I was just..."

She shook her head, unable to find the words to fully explain it. "I guess I let my emotions get the better of me. But...locking myself away wasn't the right thing to do."

A mixture of shame and reluctant guilt warring inside her, Cynder raised her head and glanced at Ember. The pink dragoness was staring at her with an unreadable expression, and for a moment she didn't say anything. Then she shrugged and relaxed her stance.

"Everyone has those moments. Maybe you're used to this—I mean, hiding away and dealing with it yourself. I can't imagine you had anyone to talk to back when you were, you know...big," she finished lamely, averting her eyes.

Cynder sighed. "I didn't. There are some habits I haven't lost from that time. Brooding is one of them."

"But you have friends now," Ember insisted, lifting her head again. Her eyes seemed to blaze with fierce conviction. "You can talk to us. We want to help you, you know."

Cynder stared at her for a long time, a kind of warmth rising in her chest. She hadn't meant to slip back into old habits and yet it had happened so quickly and easily that she'd almost forgotten what it meant to have friends. Spyro had first taught her that lesson, but it was Ember and Flame who were helping her to really understand what it meant. She didn't quite smile, but she nodded. "I know."

Ember smiled briefly. "I'm still going to knock your door down next time you try to brood, though."

"I suppose that's because you're my friend too?"

"Something like that."

Cynder shook her head slowly, a smirk tugging at her mouth. She had missed this. She couldn't figure out how she had been so foolish as to shut Ember out. Despite her occasional moodiness, somehow she always managed to make Cynder smile.

Ember fidgeted, glancing at the door. "Anyway, if all is good now, I better go find Flame before he starts a city-wide search. See you tomorrow, yeah? We should go to the baths again. It was fun last time."

"Yeah..." Cynder turned back to the door and opened it.

As Ember stepped through, she glanced at Cynder over her shoulder. "Next time you write to Spyro, tell him I said hi, 'kay? See you soon, Cynder."

* * *

Things seemed to improve after that. Cynder found herself spending more time with Ember and Flame again, just like she had when she'd first met them, and she hadn't realized how much she'd missed it. Things between her and Flame were a little awkward for a while, and Cynder suspected he knew that Ember had told her of his crush. But neither broached the subject directly, and it soon settled down until things were almost back to normal.

The days seemed brighter with Flame and Ember to keep her company, and going to sleep each night felt a little less lonely than before. She still dreamed of Spyro and at times would find herself just drifting off into thoughts of him—whether they be memories or daydreams—but the pain seemed somehow numbed by the company of her friends. His next letter arrived about a week after Ember's apology. He wrote of the many tasks Avgustin had him doing—some tedious, like accompanying the perimeter guards on their boring and uneventful rounds, and others nerve-wracking, like supervising a group of rowdy hatchlings for a day.

Out of everything he wrote in his letter, however, there was one paragraph that Cynder read over and over again until she had almost memorized it.

_I'm surprised you never brought up the subject of my potential Guardianship sooner, but I guess it slipped my mind too. I know what you're thinking, and there's one thing I want you to know: you're everything to me and nothing could ever replace you. To be honest, when the Guardians first suggested it to me, I was ecstatic. To be able to follow in Ignitus's pawsteps... I thought I could want for nothing more. But I was wrong, Cynder. I've known for a long time nowthat all I want is you. And if I have to give up Guardianship to be with you, that's what I'll do._

Even after reading those words several times, they still caused warm explosions like fireworks to go off in her chest. She wanted to hold him and nuzzle him for a long time, just to let him know what he meant to her. Instead she hugged a cushion to her chest and tried not to grin too wide, repeating those words in her head and imagining him standing before her and speaking them.

_You're everything to me._

_All I want is you._

Her mind went into overdrive after that letter, and she found herself daydreaming so much that Ember started calling her absentminded. Her dreams, too, were affected. They became increasingly less innocent and she would wake in the night feeling hot and bothered and wishing he was there. She couldn't deny it any longer.

One morning, about a week or two after that letter, Cynder found herself with nothing to occupy herself with. Flame and Ember were tied up doing chores for their mother, and it had been a little while since she had last seen Volteer and Terrador. So, feeling both sheepish and nervous, Cynder headed down to the library to do something that had been on her mind for a while.

There was no need to ask the librarian for directions this time, and Cynder would have preferred to keep her escapades as much a secret as possible, regardless. She snuck through the aisles feeling as though there were eyes everywhere watching her. But none of the other browsers acknowledged her presence, and she soon found the little alcove where she and Spyro had officially decided to start courting some time ago.

It took her a short while to find the book she was looking, and for a moment she was afraid someone else had taken it, but then there it was—sandwiched between _Memos of a Life-Mate _and _Courtships Gone Wrong_. Gingerly, almost reverently, Cynder pulled the book from the shelf and gazed at the title. It had been some time, but here was the book that had, at least partly, started it all.

_Courtship Practices –_ _A Study of Dragon Relationships_

Taking a deep breath, Cynder turned and settled down on a cushion in the same little alcove she had sat in months ago, and opened the book. Her paws trembled slightly as she flipped through it until she found the section she had been seeking. A section she'd never had a chance to look through before.

'From Courtship to Mates' said the bold heading at the top of the page.

Cynder licked her lips and glanced up, checking that no one was around. Assured she was indeed alone, she shifted her gaze back to the book and began to read. Feeling like she was somehow doing something wrong, Cynder had a little trouble focusing on the words written on the page, but she got the gist of the first few paragraphs and slowly relaxed as she continued on.

Apparently, the change from courtship to mates took place most commonly around the early adult years, when dragons had undergone their second—and often final—growth spurt, or during that growing period. It was not uncommon for it to happen later or even earlier, and usually depended on the courting couple and their situation.

Cynder was just reading about the mateship ritual—which, alongside the act of mating, often involved the drake presenting his dragoness with a gift, typically jewellery, gem or armour—when she so happened to glance down. At the bottom of the page were a series of simple sketches, and all of them depicted a pair of dragons in various compromising positions. Cynder stared for a moment, a sudden curiosity rising within her. She had never really thought that there might be more than one way to mate...

Paws shuffled at the end of the aisle and Cynder looked up with a stifled gasp, snapping the book shut. Her heart was pounding, but it was only another dragon looking at the books at the other end of the aisle and he didn't seem to have even noticed her presence. Nevertheless, her face burning, Cynder carefully slid the book back into its place and slipped past the dragon, no longer feeling secure enough to continue reading.

Once out of the library, she heaved a sigh and looked up at the sky. It was heavy and grey, threatening rain at any moment, and she decided it was best to return to the temple. Her whole body felt a little shaky and she couldn't shake the creeping feeling of guilt inside her. But there was a grin trying to creep its way onto her face, and she hurried through the largely empty streets feeling a little lightheaded.

From what Flame had said, she and Spyro would soon be beginning their final growth spurt, if Spyro wasn't already. Most dragons became mates during or after this period. It wasn't hard to draw conclusions, and her mind seemed all too eager do to just that. By the time she got to the temple, Cynder felt hot and tingly all over, and she was almost glad of the cool drizzle that had started falling during her walk.

She shut herself in her room and tried to occupy her mind with something else, but those thoughts stayed there, niggling at the back of her mind. She could only hope that Spyro would come home soon.

* * *

"Guess whaaat?" Ember crowed one morning when Cynder went down to meet her and Flame at the base of the temple steps. There was a twinkle to her eyes that suggested she was excited about something.

"What?" Cynder asked warily, coming to a stop on the lowest step.

Ember grinned wide enough that Cynder could see just about every pointed pearly tooth. "My hatchday is in just over a week, so you have to buy me a present!"

Cynder cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Flame. "A present?"

He shrugged. "It's a tradition. Guess you haven't celebrated many hatchdays, huh?"

Cynder wasn't even sure when her hatchday was, let alone what one did to celebrate it. Although she was reasonably sure that one such hatchday of hers had passed since the end of the war, neither she nor Spyro had thought to celebrate—or known _when_ to celebrate. Even Spyro didn't know when his hatchday was. Perhaps this was because dragonflies had no such tradition.

"No," she said after a moment. "I've never celebrated a...hatchday. What do you do?"

Ember looked aghast. "Never? But that's just... I've had thirteen already and I remember celebrating at least nine of them! I mean, I was a bit young for the others..."

"I remember them," Flame muttered. "Vaguely."

"Thirteen?" Cynder echoed, frowning as she tried to add it up in her head. Did one celebrate every hatchday? Every year? That almost seemed excessive.

"I'll be fourteen next week," Ember said proudly, lifting her head.

"I see... So this will be your fourteenth hatchday. What sort of present am I to buy you?" Cynder asked. Maybe there was some sort of tradition, just like with courtship, and she was supposed to give Ember something specific. As long as it wasn't anything too expensive... Though, apart from buying parchment, she didn't have much other use for her gems.

Ember's smile widened mischievously. "Whatever I want!"

Flame heaved an exaggerated sigh. "And that means we're going shopping."

So it was that Cynder found herself accompanying Flame and Ember to the marketplace for the first time since she had met them there. She'd only been there once since to buy more parchment, and had otherwise avoided it. As she trailed after Ember, who darted from stall to stall like a hummingbird on the hunt for nectar, Cynder remembered _why_ she didn't come here often. The din was nigh on unbearable, and she was jostled to and fro by impatient dragons and moles.

Ember seemed to have no trouble ducking and weaving around the milling crowd, and Cynder and Flame had trouble keeping her in sight. Eventually, they caught up to her at a jewellery stand where she was admiring a set of blue horn ribbons that almost matched her eyes.

"Do you think they'd look good on me?" she asked as Cynder stepped up beside her.

Cynder wasn't all that versed in the wearing of accessories, and she hesitated for a moment as she stared at the silky ribbons. They seemed so flimsy and unnecessary. "I suppose..."

Ember wrinkled her snout. "You're right, they're way too girly."

So saying, she turned on her heel and trotted away. Cynder passed the disgruntled mole behind the stall an apologetic glance and followed, aware of Flame grumbling at her heels. He'd hardly said a word since they'd entered the marketplace, and Cynder got the feeling that he didn't want to be there. As Ember ducked from one store to another, Cynder fell back until she was walking beside Flame.

"You seem unhappy," she observed as they sidestepped a distracted electric dragon who was too busy fishing in his gem pouch to notice where he was going.

"No kidding." Flame rolled his eyes. "She always gets like this when her hatchday's coming up. It's so frustrating."

Cynder glanced sidelong at him. "What about you?"

"As if I'd act like that. My hatchday's just another day to me."

Cynder eyed him curiously, considering his words and Ember's actions. Was it normal for dragons to treat their separate hatchdays so differently? Ember seemed excited, but Flame spoke as though it was hardly worth bothering with. "Do you still celebrate it?"

Flame looked surprised. "Of course. I mean, I still appreciate it, I just don't think it's something you need to get all excited about, you know? I was probably like Ember when I was younger. She'll grow out of it."

"I see." Unsure how to continue the conversation, Cynder lapsed into silence and tried to locate Ember through the bustling crowd. She spotted her at the front of another jewellery store and was just starting over there when Flame spoke again.

"Listen..." he said slowly, and the tone of his voice was enough to make Cynder stop and look over her shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Flame fidgeted and didn't meet her eyes. "About what happened the other week... What I said... I'm sor—"

"Don't, Flame." Cynder shook her head and he shut his mouth mid-word. "It doesn't matter. We've already put it behind us. It's better we forget it."

"But..." Flame seemed to hesitate, a pained, almost longing look in his eyes. Then he let out a quiet sigh and dropped his gaze. "Guess you're right, then. Forget it."

A spark of guilt flared in Cynder's chest, and she hesitated a moment before turning away. It was obvious that the hurtful words he'd said to her weren't all that he wanted to talk about. But they'd avoided the other awkward subject so far, and she planned to keep it that way. It was better it be forgotten. There was nothing that could come of Flame's crush.

As they approached Ember, they found her gushing over a gold necklet on the jewellery stand. It was adorned with a pendant cut from a red gem in the shape of a heart and otherwise looked far too gaudy for Cynder's tastes. But Ember's eyes were shining like gems themselves and she was bartering excitedly with the mole behind the stall.

"Four yellow gems!" she exclaimed, leaning over the stall.

The mole shook his head. "Six or nothing, little dragon."

Ember puffed out her cheeks. "Four and three blue!"

The mole's face twisted a little, as though he was considering it, but shook his head. Cynder stepped up beside Ember. "What's going on?"

"Look at it!" Ember said instantly, gesturing to the gaudy necklet. "Isn't it gorgeous? It would fit me perfectly!"

She waved her vaguely heart-shaped tailspade in Cynder's face and turned to Flame, grinning. "You have to buy it for me!"

Flame grimaced and glanced at the necklet. "I don't have to do anything. How do you expect me to afford that?"

"But it's for my hatchday!' Ember protested, puffing her cheeks out again. She whirled on the mole behind the stall. "Five yellow gems, then!"

The mole sighed heavily and folded his arms. "Fine. But that's as low as I'll go."

Beaming, Ember whirled back to her brother, but Flame looked less than pleased. He glanced into his gem satchel, scowled, and looked up again. "I don't even have that much!"

Ember turned pleadingly to Cynder. "You can go halves! Come on!"

Cynder stared at the gaudy necklet and wondered how Ember could think it was any less girly than the horn ribbons, but she didn't say anything. Instead she glanced at Flame, asking without words what he thought. Flame held her gaze for a moment, looking torn. Then his eyes slipped back to his eager sister and he let out a sigh. "Fine. Do you have enough, Cynder?"

"I should..." She managed to fish out two yellow gems and was just wondering how to pay half a gem when Flame offered to pay the extra. Gratefully, she handed the gems over to him.

As Flame paid the mole and Ember fidgeted giddily, Cynder let her eyes wander. She swept her gaze over the bustling crowd of market-goers and did a double take when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. A burly fire dragon seated behind a stall packed with meats was glaring their way, his jaw set with displeasure. It took a moment for Cynder to remember why he was familiar.

She nudged Flame. "Someone's glaring at us."

Flame looked up with the necklet now in his paw, following her gaze. "Huh? Oh, him. Yeah, he hasn't liked us much since that day you saved our hides. He hasn't tried to raise the prices again, though. I think he's afraid we'll call you in if he annoys us."

He sniggered and Cynder raised an eyebrow, glancing at him and then back to the grumpy stall-owner. Was she really that intimidating? She wasn't sure if that revelation sat well with her. It wasn't like she had purposefully tried to intimidate him. But, as much as she'd have liked to deny it, there were parts of her—both physical and abstract—that had carried over from her time as the Terror of the Skies.

Cynder's inner musings were interrupted by an excited squeal from Ember. "Can I have it now!?"

Flame held the necklet out of her reach and then stuffed it into his satchel. "It's not your hatchday yet. You have to wait."

Ember grumbled and pulled a face, and Cynder couldn't help but smile. Not long after, they decided to leave the busy marketplace, having achieved what they'd come there for. Cynder led the way back into the quiet streets while Ember tried to convince Flame to give her the necklet early. Her efforts went unrewarded. Smiling softly, Cynder wondered if she should try to buy something for Spyro's hatchday next time—if she could figure out when it was. Maybe the Guardians would know something.

But then she couldn't figure out what to buy him anyway. He didn't seem to have any particular interest in material items. In fact, the only things she could remember him buying had all been for her.

"So how long has it been now?" Ember piped up suddenly, as though she had known Cynder had been thinking about Spyro.

Cynder glanced back, surprised. "Ah... Almost three months, I suppose."

"Do you think he'll come back soon?" Ember asked. "I hope so."

Cynder couldn't help but note that Flame stayed very quiet, as though he was afraid of saying something wrong again. She wondered if he still disapproved of her insistence to wait regardless of how much it hurt her, but she didn't want to ask. It wasn't up to him, after all. She had promised her everything to Spyro, and that was not a promise she could break easily.

"I don't know," she said, looking ahead as the temple came into view. "But I hope so too."

As they approached the temple steps, Cynder found her thoughts wandering in a different direction. It was something she had thought about for a while and yet never thought of mentioning to her friends. Perhaps, in part, that was because it was somewhat embarrassing, or then she'd never thought that they could offer help. But a spark of inspiration hit her and she found herself saying, "I want to do something for Spyro when he comes back. To surprise him somehow."

Ember gave her a curious look as they stopped at the base of the steps. "Like, a present or something?"

"Maybe..." Cynder said slowly, frowning. "I was thinking something more...abstract."

She hummed thoughtfully to herself and looked up at the sky, wondering. A present seemed too simple; too unsatisfactory. She wanted to do something to amaze him, to show him that she done something worthwhile in the time he had been gone. After all, he was out there doing everything he could to reunite a lost subspecies with the rest of dragonkind. How could she possibly compete with that?

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more Cynder realised she wanted to improve herself—to show him that she was worthy of being courted by the purple dragon of legend. That would be her gift to him. Only, she wasn't sure how.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, smokebrain." Ember's sarcastic comment snapped Cynder out of her thoughts and she looked back at her friends to find them wielding unusual expressions. Flame looked uncomfortable and, somehow, the scales over his muzzle seemed redder than usual. Ember's expression was somewhere between exasperated and amused.

"What?" Cynder asked, bemused. Had she said something wrong?

"Flame's just infected with drake-brain," Ember said, rolling her eyes. "I think we can figure out what sort of 'gift' he's thinking about."

Still confused, Cynder stared from one sibling to the other until Flame stuttered a flustered response. "Sh-shut up! It was the way she said it! Something abstract? Yeah..."

He gave a nervous laugh and shot Cynder an almost frightened look. "Not that I'm trying to suggest that's what you meant or anything... Did you?"

Cynder was at a loss. Whatever they were talking about had them both embarrassed, and Ember's face turned fuchsia at Flame's question.

"We don't want to know!" she shrieked. "Gosh, Flame! Do you really think she'd tell us if that was what she meant? Do you have _any_ concept of privacy?"

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry!" Flame held up a paw disarmingly, looking even more flustered than before. "I was just... Never mind. Just never mind. Let's stop before this gets any more awkward."

Cynder glanced from him to Ember and back again, her suspicions rising. From the way they were talking, there was at least one conclusion she could draw... But surely they weren't referring to _that_. They wouldn't. Would they? Her thoughts flew back to the book she'd read only a few days previously and suddenly her face felt hot.

Clearing her throat softly, she straightened her stance. "Moving that aside... Is there anything either of you can think of? I want him to see that I haven't been doing nothing while he's been gone."

Flame shrugged. "Maybe you could make something for him. Like, um..."

He trailed off, apparently with no idea what to suggest. Cynder considered it for a moment but ultimately decided she had no idea what to make, let alone the skills to do it. Her charcoal sketches weren't exactly attractive.

"Maybe you should think about why you're doing this," Ember said, suddenly serious. "Are you trying to impress him or make him happy? They're not quite the same."

Cynder hesitated. "I just...want him to see that I'm able to stand beside him. To be good enough for him..."

"You're insecure."

Cynder flinched, but she couldn't deny Ember's quiet accusation. She looked away. "It's not that simple..."

"Maybe, but that's the root of it," Ember said. Her eyes softened. "I think the best thing you can do is stop worrying. Spyro loves you, right? You don't need to impress him to make him love you more. I reckon you already did that a long time ago when you helped him take down the Dark Master. Jeez. If I had done that, I'd have drakes falling all over me."

She heaved a wistful sigh and her eyes glazed over. Cynder almost couldn't contain her grin, but worry still twisted her gut. "But he's the purple dragon. He's...well."

"The saviour of the world?" Flame offered dryly.

Cynder sighed. "Exactly. What makes me worthy of being beside him?"

"There's this little thing called love," Ember said, her voice coloured with sarcasm, "you might not have heard of it. It makes dragons do crazy things like forget their own assets and achievements in favour of adoring someone else. It's a bit weird."

Cynder gave her an odd look, to which Ember just rolled her eyes again. "Look, all I'm saying is that Spyro doesn't care about any of that! Why would he? I might not have met him in person, but everything I've seen and heard pretty much confirms that he's not some kind of arrogant jerkface who only cares about his own awesomeness. Jeez, if he was, you wouldn't be in love with him, would you?"

"I...I guess not..." Cynder took a step back, a little put out. She hadn't expected this conversation to head in such a direction, and the revelations were making her head spin.

"Just relax," Ember said, smiling. "If he fell in love with you before, he's going to do it all over again when he comes back—no matter what you do. And just for the record... If there was anyone worthy of courting the 'saviour of the world', I'm pretty sure it would be the one who, you know, helped him do it?"

For once, Cynder didn't have a response to that. She looked at Flame, who just shrugged helplessly, and realised abruptly that he probably wasn't enjoying this conversation. Feeling a little guilty, she half turned towards the temple.

"Thanks, I guess," she mumbled to Ember. "See you again soon?"

The siblings nodded and Ember sidled up to her just as she started climbing the steps. "One more thing..."

Cynder glanced back at her. "What is it?"

Shooting a quick glance back at Flame, Ember leaned in close and whispered, "If you're still thinking about a gift for him, maybe Flame's first idea wasn't so bad..."

It took Cynder a moment to understand, until Ember winked and wiggled her hindquarters with a sly grin. The blood immediately rushed to her face and she found herself mouthing wordlessly in response. Smirking unabashedly, Ember turned away and walked back to her brother. "Bye, Cynder!"

Cynder just stared after her, feeling a little windswept. Maybe Ember wasn't as innocent as she had first thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

Days turned to weeks, and Cynder's collection of letters slowly grew. She read over them again sometimes when she felt alone, and they were enough to make her smile. Ember's hatchday came and went, and she started proudly wearing her new choker every day until Cynder started to wonder if she even slept with it on. Flame didn't try again to bring up the subject of his outburst back then, and Cynder was only too pleased to let it rest.

Soon, it had been over four months since Spyro had left. Every letter he sent seemed progressively more excited, and the most recent one revealed that Avgustin had finally started teaching him the wind element.

It soon became apparent that his return to Warfang was closer than ever before, and Cynder found it somehow even harder to be patient. She thought of him daily and spent almost every morning waiting by the window for a while, just to see if Rosemary would bring her another letter. Last letter, Spyro had said all he needed now was to get Avgustin and Cyril back on speaking terms, and she wasn't sure how long that would take. But she had hope that soon he would return.

It was around this time that, in an attempt to keep herself both distracted and in shape, Cynder started training at the temple dojo again. It was easy to slip back into her old battle skills, though she hadn't used them in months, and soon she could bring down hoards of straw dummies almost effortlessly. Once, she invited Flame and Ember to join her, and was half-amused and half-anxious to find that neither of them had a particularly solid grip on their element—which was fire, naturally. They had grown up in shelter and hiding, after all, and hadn't had to develop any sort of battle prowess.

Though Ember claimed their mother had taught them basic defence skills, Cynder noted that both she and Flame had difficulties with even just two dummies at once. So it was that she took it upon herself to teach them—or at least try to.

"You've got to watch your back!" she snapped for what felt like the tenth time as Flame was struck between the shoulder blades by the dummy's wooden club. "Be aware of your surroundings or your enemies will take advantage of you!"

"Easy for you to say," Flame grumbled as he picked himself up, ducked the dummy's next swing, and rammed his horns into its gut. It was thrown to the ground and flailed uselessly as it tried to get up. "I don't have eyes on the back of my head!"

"You don't _need_ to." Cynder sighed and shook her head as Flame finished the dummy off with a weak blast of fire. "There are more senses than just sight."

"Can't we work on fire breathing instead?" Ember pleaded, already flaked out on the floor after fighting only two dummies. "I've always wanted to get the hang of that."

Cynder hesitated, glancing from one hopeful sibling to the other. "I can't really help you with that. I'm not a fire dragon myself. If Spyro was here..."

"Do you think he'd teach us?" Ember asked excitedly, sitting up suddenly with wide eyes. "That would be so cool!"

Cynder smiled as Spyro's face came to mind. She could easily imagine him teaching younger dragons how to breath fire, just as Ignitus had once taught him. "I'm sure he would."

While Ember beamed, Flame grumbled and nudged the charred straw dummy to the edge of the dojo. "Why do we gotta learn this stuff, anyway? The war is over. It's not like we'll have to fight anyone."

"Maybe not," Cynder said grimly, "but it's always a useful skill to be able to defend yourself."

Flame didn't seem to have an answer to that and instead averted his eyes. After a moment of silence in which no one seemed to know what to say, Ember piped up with a different subject altogether. "What do you think you'll do first when Spyro comes back?"

Surprised, Cynder paused and thought about how to answer. She hadn't really considered that yet. All she'd been thinking about was _when_ he would come back, not what she would do when that finally happened. But now that she thought of it, she wasn't entirely sure. Surely they would embrace and maybe nuzzle for the first time in months, but then what? That was, if he even wanted to do that. Maybe it would be strange after so long apart.

Cynder couldn't help but remember how awkward their first nuzzles had been. They hadn't really known what to do and there had been a few uncomfortable collisions before they'd figured it out. She hoped she hadn't forgotten how to nuzzle in Spyro's absence. But maybe he had too.

Realizing that Ember was waiting for an answer, Cynder felt the blood rise to her face. "I'm...not sure."

"You'll probably want some time alone first, but do you think we could meet him soon?" Ember smiled innocently, widening her huge blue eyes as though that would convince Cynder.

"I guess so..." Cynder looked away, blushing further, as the words 'time alone' had summoned a certain mental image that Ember may or may not have meant to imply.

"No rush," Flame muttered, still not looking at her. "Anyway, we should probably get going. It's getting late."

The sun was indeed starting to set, casting orange light through the tall windows of the dojo. Cynder glanced out at the sky as her friends stood up to leave, a wave of disappointment washing over her. They had only been there for a few hours and she wasn't quite ready to return to her usual nightly solitude. In a sudden spark of inspiration, she turned to the siblings. "Shall I walk you home? I could use the fresh air."

Ember's face brightened. "Sure! You can say hi to Mum. She hasn't seen you since my hatchday."

Cynder smiled softly and followed them out of the dojo. She had met their mother only once before when Ember had invited her to their dwelling for the celebration of her hatchday. At first, Cynder had been nervous to meet an adult outside of the Order of the Guardians. Young dragons like Flame and Ember were one thing, but if there were any dragons who would remember well the days of the Terror of the Skies, it was the adults. But their mother had proved to be both kind and understanding, if a little stern, and Cynder had taken an immediate liking to her.

On their way through the streets of Warfang, Ember and Flame argued animatedly about who was the better fighter and Cynder listened without comment. She could have said they were equally as bad as each other, but that seemed a little too harsh.

"I bet," Ember said with a confident lift of her head, "I'll be a much better fire-breather than you."

"As if. You're a girl," Flame scoffed. His eyes widened and flicked to Cynder, and she arched an eyebrow in response. "Ah, no, I mean... It's not like girls can't be good fighters or...something..."

He trailed off lamely, looking as though he wanted to sink into the ground, and Ember snorted out a derisive laugh.

Flame shot her a glare. "I feel a little outnumbered here."

"Sucks to be you," said Ember before throwing a glance Cynder's way. "Cynder could beat you up with her eyes closed."

"That's not a fair comparison..." Flame grumbled.

"Perhaps it isn't," Cynder cut in before the argument could spiral out of control, "but you should never make assumptions. It is not gender that decides a dragon's battle prowess, but their intuition and dedication. The more you train both your mind and body, the greater your skills will become—regardless of whether you are drake or dragoness."

Looking suitably abashed, Flame snorted softly and averted his eyes. Ember smiled a little smugly and they trotted in silence down the final street towards their dwelling. It was a squat, roundish building made of blocks of golden sandstone, with a large round wooden door. At the centre of the door was a little bronze dragon head with its mouth open, a tiny peep-hole down its throat.

Flame pushed the door open without bothering to knock, and it swung inward on squeaking hinges.

"Mum!" Ember called down the short hallway as they stepped over the threshold. "We're home!"

There was a faint pattering of paws from another room, and then a tall dark red dragoness appeared at the end of the corridor. "I was just wondering where you were. You really shouldn't stay out so late."

She started towards them and her eyes softened as they fell upon Cynder, a smile creeping across her muzzle. "Oh, Cynder. It's good to see you. Did you walk them home?"

Cynder smiled in return. "Hello, Sienna. I just needed the fresh air. Sorry I kept them so late."

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't keep them against their will," Sienna replied, shooting a teasing smile at her children. "Did you want to stay for dinner?"

Cynder hesitated for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. It was getting dark, and Spyro's next letter was due any day now. For all she knew, Rosemary could have been waiting at her room at that very moment. She looked back at the older dragoness. "Sorry, Sienna, but not tonight. I should be getting back to the temple."

Sienna's smile looked a little disappointed. "Perhaps another time, then? Goodness knows Ember and Flame wouldn't mind. They seem to be stuck to you like limpets sometimes."

"We're not that bad," Flame muttered, but Ember pressed herself against Cynder's side and grinned.

"This is why I wish I had a sister instead," she said, shooting a sly sideways glance at her brother. "Drakes are so boring."

Flame scoffed. "Wait until you reach courting age. You won't be saying that then."

Ember just poked her tongue out at him and Cynder eased herself out of her hold. Sienna uttered a quiet, long-suffering sigh. "Let's hope that won't be for another few years yet. Goodness knows it won't be long before Flame starts bringing dragonesses home."

"Mum!" Flame looked nothing short of aghast, and Cynder looked away to hide her smile.

"I guess I'd better get going, then," she said, looking back up at Sienna. "It was nice to see you again."

"Do come around more often," Sienna said. "This place could stand to be a little livelier."

Nodding politely, Cynder turned and stepped back through the door, bidding farewell to Ember and Flame over her shoulder.

"Can we train again tomorrow?" Ember called after her.

"Same time," Cynder called back. "Don't be late."

As the last of the sun's light began to give way to darkness, Cynder walked the streets back to the temple. It wasn't the shortest of walks, and she knew she could have arrived faster had she flown, but part of her wanted to enjoy the cool night air for a little longer. The streets were mostly empty at this time and she walked in solitude for most of the way, passing only two dragons and a mole who offered her nothing but passing glances. She didn't mind. Solitude was something she had always enjoyed, and she had never feared the dark.

But as she walked the empty streets, and the sunset light was replaced by a moonlit glow, she found herself thinking of Spyro and wishing he was there to walk beside her. They had often walked together in the evenings before he had left, filling the silence with casual conversation and enjoying the solitude of the early night. Those had been some of Cynder's favourite moments, and remained some of her favourite memories.

What she would have given to have more.

Some time after sunset, the temple came into view under the light of the moons. Cynder paused at the base of the steps, gazing up at the entrance. It was always a sight to see, no matter how many times she had travelled to and from this temple. The moles were masters of architecture. But Cynder's gaze slipped past the golden curve of the doorframe and its intricate patterns; past the twisting columns of impossibly smooth sandstone; past the statues of almost life-like dragons carved into the walls; and she stared instead at that empty space at the top of the steps.

Spyro had stood there once, beckoning her home. It had been a cold night, and Cynder had fallen asleep early after a hard training session. She'd awoken from an awful nightmare some time before midnight and had decided to take a short stroll through the streets to calm her frazzled nerves. The memories of that nightmare were now vague and foggy, but she remembered clearly the moment she'd returned to find Spyro standing upon the steps.

"I heard you pass my door," he'd said, smiling down at her as she stood at the base of the steps. "I've always been a light sleeper. Are you alright? I was going to go after you, but I thought that you might have wanted to be alone..."

Cynder had climbed the steps to join him, a little ashamed to have been caught in such a state. She hadn't thought to wake Spyro, for her nightmares had little to do with him—and she had always dealt with her problems alone. But seeing him standing there had made her feel, for a moment, a little warmer.

"I just needed to clear my head," she'd told him. "I'm fine now."

Spyro might not have believed her, but he smiled all the same and led her back inside into the warmth. It hadn't taken much for her to admit to her nightmares, and that night he had insisted on staying with her. That was the first time they had slept together, weeks before they'd even started courting. It was a memory that still warmed Cynder's heart.

But that space at the top of the steps was now empty. Cynder sighed and ascended them, allowing her paws to take her through the door into the temple and back to her room. When the door slid open to admit her, she stood for a moment in the doorway, simply staring at her empty room. There was no sign of Rosemary, nor any letter left by the window.

Disappointed, Cynder passed over to it and sat down. Spyro's letter was late. For the last few months, he had written to her within two weeks without fail, but the two week mark was upon them and there was still no word from him. It had always been hard to wait in those final few days, but Cynder had trusted that his letter would come eventually. It always had.

She wanted to believe that, until he finally returned, it always would. But as she sat at her window that night, alone with only memories of warmer times, she couldn't help but worry.


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

The days passed slowly, two weeks crept towards three, and there was no letter from Spyro. Cynder's worries deepened with every passing day that there was no word from him. She couldn't understand. This had never happened before. What if something had happened to Spyro? What if Avgustin had changed his mind and imprisoned him, and he had no way of contacting her?

What if...?

Her anxieties grew steadily and, as they did, her temper became strained. Cynder noticed it herself when she started getting snappier with Flame and Ember during their subsequent training sessions. It was like her nerves were pulled so tightly that a single flick—a single tiny action—would make them snap. She tried to calm herself with training, exhausting herself to the point where she was too tired to lose her temper, but she could do little to reel in her irritation during Ember and Flame's sessions.

It was like they simply refused to improve at the rate she had expected. Perhaps she was expecting too much of them, but she had never taught another dragon to fight before. All she had were memories of when Gaul had taught her. As a young hatchling, her body had been too weak to contain the dark magic needed to corrupt her, and so she had spent years under the care of the ape king and his soldiers. If it could even be called that.

Perhaps it was these memories that made her so irritable and impatient with her hapless students.

"I told you to focus!" Cynder snapped one afternoon when, for the third time, Ember was overrun by a trio of brainless dummies. She stalked over and slapped the puppets away with her tailblade, pushing them off the dazed pink dragoness. "If they had been real enemies, you would be dead!"

"Stop getting angry at us!" Ember protested, pushing herself up and rubbing a blooming bruise on her shoulder. "I'm trying!"

"Em's right," Flame added, stepping over to join them. "You're being too hard on us. We're only beginners, not like you."

With rising irritation, Cynder turned on him, indignant anger welling up inside her. "Too hard? Do you want to know how _I_ learned to fight?"

Flame hesitated and glanced at his sister, suddenly looking uncertain. "You...you don't have to tell..."

"I was no more than a hatchling, not even ten," she snapped, cutting him off. "I was thrown into a pit of apes and told to fight or die. They used real weapons, not wooden ones. I have only spirit gems to thank for my lack of scars. Consider yourselves lucky that all you have to fight are brainless puppets stuffed with straw!"

A heavy silence followed in the wake of her outburst, and Flame looked nothing short of horrified. Snorting, Cynder looked away and glared at Ember, who seemed to be purposely avoiding her gaze. After a moment, she spoke in a quiet voice. "That's not fair."

Cynder frowned at her. "What?"

Ember looked up, meeting her eyes with a kind of calm defiance. "Just because that happened to you doesn't mean you can treat us like this."

Cynder opened her mouth to respond, but no words came to her. Ember's eyes seemed to stare straight through her and a coldness spread through her veins as her words sunk in. She swallowed and looked away, her scales prickling with unease, too proud to apologise so easily. Flame sighed.

"You've been real high-strung lately," he said after a beat of silence. "Is there something up?"

Reluctant to say anything, Cynder merely grunted in reply.

"At least you're not avoiding us this time," Ember muttered. "Though I can't tell if this is better or worse."

She got up and nudged Cynder's shoulder with her own, jostling her out of her brooding thoughts. Cynder scowled at her, but her irritation was already trickling away, leaving her only with a heavy feeling of defeat. Shaking her head, she sat down.

"It's Spyro," she said at last. "I haven't heard from him for over two weeks."

Ember's eyes widened and she sat up straighter. "You haven't? But, doesn't he usually... Do you think something's gone wrong? Have you tried writing to him again?"

"I can't," Cynder muttered, flicking at the scraps of straw littered across the floor. "I have no way of getting a letter to him."

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and tried to organise her thoughts. "It's just... I can't help but think that something has happened to him. This isn't like him."

"Maybe he's just really busy?" Flame suggested.

"Maybe..." That was what Cynder hoped to believe, but she still couldn't understand. Even if he was busier than usual, how could he not have found time in the last week to write her a short letter to send off with Rosemary? A sudden thought came to her, filling her veins with a sudden rush of ice. What if he had sent a letter, but something had happened to Rosemary on the way? Her stomach churned. It was possible. Too possible.

"I'm sure he's fine," Ember offered, sounding far more confident than Cynder felt. "You'll hear from him soon, I bet."

Cynder didn't reply, but she hoped Ember was right. Pushing those thoughts away, she eyed the dojo and the many dummies scattered around. It had only taken them a few hours to create this mess.

"Maybe we should clean up," she said at length. "That's enough training for now."

Agreeing silently, the siblings got to work and, soon enough, the damaged straw puppets were gathered in a pile near the door. As Cynder ushered them out of the dojo, Flame glanced sidelong at her.

"Maybe we should take a few days' break from this," he suggested. "Wait until you're less stressed."

Reluctant though she was to agree, Cynder nodded without a word. The more time she spent trying to teach Flame and Ember, the more irritated she felt. Until her worries for Spyro were put to rest, she had little choice but to step down before her teaching methods got out of paw. Hurting them, whether mentally or physically, was the very last thing she wanted.

When they reached the temple doors, Ember stopped and turned to her. "Did you want to come down to the marketplace? We could buy some dragonfruit and head down to the gardens."

Cynder hesitated on the verge of agreeing, but a mixture of worry and lingering frustration had made her reluctant to even leave the temple recently. After a moment's deliberation, she shook her head and glanced away. "Sorry. I'm not up to it today."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the worried looks on their faces. Feeling worse than before, she gestured for them to go. "Don't worry about me. I just need some time alone."

Ember looked torn. "But you'll feel better if you just..."

"Please." Cynder met her eyes with that single word, and Ember fell silent.

Heaving a sigh, she turned and nudged her brother. "Let's go, Flame. _I_ want dragonfruit even if she doesn't."

"Only if you're paying," he grumbled as he turned to follow her out of the temple. He shot a glance over his shoulder at Cynder. "See you."

"Yeah," Cynder said as they started down the steps, feeling as though a heavy weight was sinking deeper and deeper into her stomach.

She watched her friends until they passed out of sight around a corner, and then turned back into the temple. With nothing else to do, she padded absentmindedly back to her room and spent the rest of the day trying to read one of her books—a fiction story based around a well-known legend of the ancestors, embellished with a flimsy love story that left Cynder unsatisfied.

Sunset came and went without a letter from Spyro. When Cynder fell asleep that night, she dreamed of him fighting against hordes of faceless enemies, far too many for him to overcome alone. Though she fought to get to him, she couldn't even move her limbs. When the morning light touched her face, Cynder awoke feeling shaken and cold.

* * *

Over the next few days, in fear of lashing out at her friends again, Cynder started denying to spend time with them. She made excuses that she wasn't feeling well or that the Guardians needed her assistance, though she knew they would see right through them. In truth, the more she worried, the more unwell she began to feel.

She thought of ways to send Spyro another letter and remembered that the cheetahs had falcons, but they were all the way in Avalar and she wasn't quite that desperate yet. Several half-formed letters were written to him, regardless, but she scrunched them all between her talons and threw them at the wall in frustration. At some point, she started to wonder if he wasn't writing to her simply because he no longer wanted to, and the thought left her feeling both bitter and alone no matter how she tried to convince herself it wasn't true.

Nightmares began to bother her more frequently, and soon Cynder feared sleeping at all. She would often spend half the night convincing herself to stay awake, watching the skies for any sign of Rosemary or reading by firelight. She hadn't had nightmares like this since her first few weeks at Warfang after the war, and their recurrence left her shaken and afraid. Back then, Spyro had been there to help her through it, and Cynder suspected that it was largely his support that had eventually seen an end to her nightmares.

But he was nowhere to be found now—nowhere but inside the nightmares themselves.

One night, more than three weeks since Spyro's last letter, Cynder tried to keep herself awake by counting the stars above Warfang. She lost count after a few hundred and it was only when her chin hit the windowsill and sent a jolt of shock and pain through her skull that she realised there was no use fighting off sleep. Exhaustion had her in its iron claws and wouldn't let go.

Reluctantly, she stepped away from the window and nestled down in her nest of sleeping cushions, wrapping herself in the wall-hanging that she had torn down again some nights ago. Warm and comfortable, but no less afraid and alone, Cynder lay her head down and closed her eyes. The darkness deepened and shifted behind her eyelids, drawing her down with it into a spiralling descent. She didn't try to struggle.

"We're too late!"

Cynder opened her eyes, startled by the familiar voice. At first, all she saw was purple—it swirled all around her, shades of violet, indigo and lavender, twisting into a grotesque imitation of the sky. Then her gaze shifted to her feet and she saw him standing there—a small purple dragon, no bigger than a hatchling. He was glaring up at her with a kind of childish defiance that was, at the same time, both admirable and laughable.

For a moment she could only stare. "Spyro."

His scowled deepened. "We've come to stop you. We won't let you do this to the realms."

We? Her gaze shifted to the glowing yellow orb that floated beside Spyro's head, and she jerked back as it suddenly darted towards her face. A small angry insect snarled at her through the golden glow. "Yeah, we're gonna tear you a new one, Terror!"

Somehow, the nickname made her wince. She shook her head. "Spyro, you don't understand. I don't want to do this."

"Like I can believe that." Spyro snorted and pawed the ground, smoke rising from his nostrils. "You think you can trick me after everything you've done? I know you want the Dark Master to return! But I won't let you!"

Before Cynder could object, Spyro darted towards her, fire igniting along the lines of his horns and spreading over his scales. She screeched and reeled backwards as he collided with her chest, searing through her soft magenta scales and sending her careening to the ground. Her shoulder struck stone and she writhed to get up, sudden fear striking straight to her heart. Whipping her gaze around, she saw Spyro darting in from the side, electricity sparking in his jaws.

Cynder screamed and thrashed to get away, but the leaping voltage captured her in a cage of agony as it arced over her scales. She struggled and pleaded for Spyro to stop, begging for him to believe that she wanted nothing to do with the Dark Master. He wouldn't listen. Again and again he punched her down with blasts of elements, until Cynder's world was naught but an explosion of colours and pain. Her screams went unheeded; perhaps unheard.

At last, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Gasping for breath, she found herself flat against the stone floor, twitching with the memory of the pain she'd endured. A strange creeping sensation took root behind her eyes, spreading over her body from scale to scale, until she felt like she was melting. Terrified and helpless, Cynder curled in on herself as the world seem to grow around her—or perhaps she was shrinking.

When it finally stopped, she opened her eyes to find Spyro staring down at her coldly. Shaking, Cynder tried to reach out a paw towards him, begging for him to help her. But he didn't move an inch and his expression didn't waver. An awful pulling sensation began at the tip of her tail, dragging her backwards over the stone as a steady roaring filled her ears.

Paralysed, Cynder could only stare pleadingly at Spyro as she was pulled further and further away from him. He stared coldly after her.

"Now you'll never hurt anyone again."

Fear clamped ice-cold claws around her heart. Cynder opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out and, with a sickening lurch, she was pulled backwards into a vortex of white and grey. It swirled around her in erratic movements, pulling her in several different directions all at once, threatening to tear her to pieces. She fought and struggled to get back to Spyro, trying to scream his name though her voice wouldn't work.

_Spyro._

Invisible claws fastened around her throat, squeezing the breath from her lungs as she was pulled deeper into the void. That tiny violet shimmer in the distance was her only way back to Spyro, but she couldn't get to it no matter how hard she tried.

_Spyro._

Cynder gasped for breath, but her mouth was filled with emptiness. Her head spun and she struggled all the more as the winds of the vortex tried to rip the wings from her shoulders.

_Spyro!_

Feathers exploded all around her. Cynder shot up with a scream, kicking out at whatever it was that had her entangled. It tore around her talons and slipped off her scales as she fell to the floor with a heavy _thump_. Gasping for breath, Cynder lay for a moment staring at her ceiling.

Her ceiling.

She was awake.

Her heart was still thundering like mad, but Cynder rolled onto her side and lifted her head. Her room was washed with moonlight, casting dramatic shadows over the walls and floor. The wall-hanging was crumpled beside her scattered sleeping cushions, where it had landed in Cynder's frantic struggle to escape its embrace. She sighed and let her shoulders sag as her heart rate began to slow.

It had all been a dream. Just another stupid nightmare.

Cynder rubbed her face and unsteadily got to her feet, staggering over to her water basin. She'd had it refilled only a few days previously, and relished the cold fresh water as she splashed it over her face.

What a dream. It was already starting to fade from her mind, but the fear remained deep in her gut and Cynder didn't fancy going back to sleep. She sat down by the water basin and looked out the window. If only Spyro was there. He would know what to say to alleviate her fears; somehow, he always did.

For a little while, Cynder merely sat and let herself calm down from the nightmare. Her eyelids quickly grew heavy once more, but she fought back the tiredness for as long as she could. The fear of returning to that nightmare was too much. That cold look on Spyro's face; the void as it tried to tear her apart; her helplessness to do anything as it dragged her away from him. Cynder shuddered and curled up among her cushions again.

It wasn't long before her exhaustion overcame the fear to sleep, and Cynder let her head rest on the cushion. She didn't wrap herself in the wall-hanging again, but the night was warm enough that it made little difference.

Despite her fears, she didn't dream again that night—at least, she remembered none when she awoke the next morning.

When she did awaken as the light of dawn crept across her face, Cynder lay for a while, draped across her cushions, and thought back to the nightmare. It seemed a little less frightening in the daylight, and she almost felt foolish for how badly it had affected her. Pushing it from her mind, she glanced around her room and was about to check on the wall-hanging—which she was certain she had accidently ripped in the throws of her nightmare—when she caught something out of the corner of her eye.

Startled, she glanced over to the window. Lying on the floor beneath it was a scroll of parchment. Cynder was certain it wasn't one of hers, as she kept them stacked neatly on the bookshelf—never rolled up like that, unless she was ready to send it to Spyro.

Spyro.

Cynder's heart leapt into her throat. Hardly daring to hope, she slowly got to her feet and padded over to it.

Rosemary was nowhere to be seen, not even a speck in the sky, and Cynder hesitated as she looked down at the scroll. Something didn't feel right. Rosemary never just abandoned a letter and left, and Cynder had no idea how it could have gotten there. Had it been delivered in the night? She didn't recall seeing it when she'd awoken from her nightmare, but then it had been dark and she hadn't looked.

Whatever it was, whoever it was from, there was only one way to find out. Swiftly unrolling the parchment, Cynder glanced over the unfamiliar writing. There were only two sentences scrawled across it, and they had not been written by Spyro.

_Be at the north wall at sundown. _

_Come alone._


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

Cynder stared at the note for a long time, a prickling unease creeping over her scales. Spyro hadn't written this. She had become familiar with his tail-writing over the past few months, and there was no doubt in her mind that this note was not his. But then who had written it? Those two short sentences glared at her from the parchment, somehow menacing. It was strange. Who would write something like this?

She couldn't imagine why anyone would want to meet her on the wall at sundown. It was such an odd place to meet, and an even stranger time. But it was those last two words that made her scales crawl. _Come alone._

Why? What could the writer of the note gain from meeting her alone?

Cynder narrowed her eyes and flipped the parchment over, but the other side was predictably blank. There was nothing else to suggest what this was about, nothing to tell her who could possibly have written this. It made her all the more suspicious. Something was definitely not right about this.

Gazing at the unfamiliar writing, Cynder cycled through every possibility she could imagine. Maybe Flamewanted to talk to her about his crush. Maybe Ember was just messing with her. Maybe it was a messenger from the wind dragons coming to deliver bad news of Spyro. The thought made her stomach clench and she almost pierced the parchment with her talons.

That couldn't be it. Why would a messenger want to see her alone? Why her and not the Guardians? No, it didn't make sense. Whoever had written this wanted something from her, else they would never have requested to see her alone. But what could any creature want from her?

Cynder lifted her gaze from the note and looked out over Warfang through her window. It was likely that whoever had written it was within the city at that very moment. She closed her eyes and tried to remember everyone she had come into contact with since the end of the war, but there was little to go upon. The Guardians. Flame, Ember and their mother. The moles at the marketplace. That grumpy dragon at the meat stall. It was too far-fetched to think that this note could have anything to do with him—months had passed since that incident.

But that didn't mean there was no one in the city who meant her ill will. Cynder scowled and opened her eyes. Ever since the end of the war, ever since she and Spyro had come to live at Warfang, she had expected retaliation from the dragons who had suffered under the wrath of the Terror of the Skies. She had never understood why it hadn't come—why the citizens of Warfang seemed content to let the past be. There had been a few small incidents, but they had been dealt with easily by the Guardians and Cynder had never felt threatened by the dragons of Warfang.

Now this note had arrived, and she could not help the suspicion that rose in her mind. What if whoever had written it was out for revenge? It had been more than a year since the end of the war, but some scars never truly faded. Maybe one who bore those scars—scars she had caused years ago—had finally found the gall to confront the last remaining remnant of the Terror of the Skies. Cynder clenched her paws and looked down at the note again.

It was too much of a possibility to ignore. But if that was the case, what was she to do? If the note was to be believed, she had only until sundown to decide on her course of action. Who knew what the writer would do if she ignored it.

Cynder was not one to back down from challenge or threat. Even if she had wanted to throw the note away and pretend she had never read it, her pride would not let her. Not that she wished to do such a thing. Mingling with her sense of unease and suspicion was a rising flood of curiosity. She wanted to know who had written this and why, and regardless of the consequences, she was going to find out.

Crumpling the note between her claws, Cynder tossed it into her mess of cushions and turned for the door. If this mysterious note-writer wanted to meet her alone, then so be it. And if they meant her harm in any way, shape or form, they would be in for an unpleasant surprise. She was no longer the Terror of the Skies, but no less skilled in battle. Months ago, she might have been willing to pay for her crimes, but Spyro had helped her see otherwise.

"I am not Malefor's puppet any longer," she hissed to herself as she stalked out of her room. "I will not be condemned for her actions."

* * *

With a shriek, Cynder flung herself at the nearest dummy, claws extended with the acid-green glow of poison shimmering along their length. She tore into its chest, tearing fabric and straw apart as she rode it to the ground. As soon as it hit the floor she pushed off with her hind legs, wrenching her talons free and leaping high over the horizontal swing of another's wooden blade.

Twisting in the air, she whipped her tailblade down, coating it with slick acid as it collided with the dummy's back. Her blade severed straight through to the other side, parting the puppet's arm from its body. The severed limb hit the ground seconds before Cynder landed nearby and spun around with poison in her jaws. The remaining dummies lurched towards her brainlessly, stumbling over the devastated bodies of their straw companions, swinging their wooden weapons.

Cynder spat a bullet of poison at the nearest and it stumbled back as a hole was eaten straight through its chest. Its wooden club clattered to the ground. Two more rushed at her in tandem, screeching like apes as they disregarded their weapons and charged on all fours. Cynder crouched and waited for them to get closer, tensing her muscles and waiting for the right moment to move.

At the very last second, as her assailants leapt at her, filling her vision with their comically gruesome fabricated faces, she closed her eyes and spun away. Her tail whipped out in a wide arc and she felt it collide with the dummies, slicing through their straw bodies as though they were made of nothing but parchment. Hearing the gentle thumps of the puppets hitting the ground, Cynder shot a glance over her shoulder.

There was only one left. It held its wooden club high over its head and uttered a cry reminiscent of the apes she had once commanded. Cynder snarled and turned to face her final assailant as it charged at her. Clenching her teeth, she drew back and sprang forward, thundering across the dojo floor to meet the dummy mid-charge. Tempted through she was to close her eyes for the collision, Cynder forced herself to keep them open a sliver as her vision became filled with fabric and straw.

In the second before they collided, she released the energy she'd been building up inside her all his time, and everything around her became tinted with an acid green glow. She could feel it coating her scales, spreading from the tip of her muzzle, over her horns, down her neck to her shoulders and over her back. Closing her eyes, Cynder collided with the dummy.

She tore straight through it. Fabric ripped in her ears and she felt straw explode across her muzzle, and then her paws struck the dojo floor again and she skidded to a stop. Shaking her head, Cynder spun around in time to see the devastated dummy collapse to the ground. There was a gaping hole in the middle of its torso that was still smoking with the remnants of her acid.

Adrenaline still pulsing through her veins, Cynder grinned at her own success and wiped the straw from her muzzle. Several months ago she had started trying to adapt Spyro's moves to her own elements—in particular, his so-called Comet Dash—but only recently was she starting to get the hang of it. She still had yet to think of a name for it.

She was just moving over to remove the damaged straw puppets from the dojo arena when a voice broke the silence. "That was pretty awesome."

A cold thrill surged down Cynder's spine and she whirled around, gathering poison in her jaws once more. At the entrance to the dojo, a startled Ember ducked behind her equally shocked brother. Surprised, Cynder straightened up and let the poison recede, though her heart was still racing.

After a moment, Flame swallowed visibly. "Uh...sorry? Didn't think that would scare you."

Cynder snorted and shoved a broken dummy towards the edge of the arena without comment. When she looked up again, Ember had crept out from behind Flame and was regarding her warily.

"What were you gonna do, attack us?" she asked.

"You interrupted me while I was training," Cynder replied stiffly, walking over to them. "What did you expect?"

"You're not usually that edgy," Ember grumbled, averting her eyes and pouting.

Cynder sighed and shook her head. The dojo was the first place she had gone that morning, without even stopping to eat. The strange note, combined with her worries about Spyro, had left her feeling too uneasy to eat, and a mixture of irritation and apprehension had lead her to the dojo to let off some steam. Now that her training had been interrupted, she found her thoughts returning to Spyro and the note. She itched to hurry back up to her room to check if Rosemary had finally arrived, but instead focused her attention on Flame and Ember.

"Why are you here?" she asked bluntly, sweeping her gaze over them.

"What?" Ember bristled indignantly. "Aren't we allowed to come see you anymore? It's been a few days since we did!"

"We were bored, I guess." Flame shrugged, peering around her at the mess she'd made of the dojo. "Those were some pretty cool moves. I've never seen you fight like that before."

"I needed to let off some steam," Cynder muttered, glancing back at the damaged dummies. She looked back at the siblings. "I didn't plan on finishing yet."

She hoped her words and the tone of her voice were enough to tell her friends that she wanted to be left alone, but neither of them moved. Ember's snout wrinkled a little. "Can't we watch? We've never seen you go all out like that."

Cynder tightened her jaw. She hadn't planned on having an audience, and something about knowing there would be eyes on her while she trained was unnerving. But as she looked at Ember's pleading face, she knew she wouldn't accept 'no' for an answer easily. Not in the mood to argue, Cynder sighed. "Fine. Just don't get in the way."

She turned away from Ember's grinning face and stalked back into the middle of the arena, pushing her irritation away as she decided which element to train next. Settling on shadow, Cynder closed her eyes and thought. Just like they had at the dojo at the old Dragon Temple, the dummies winked into appearance around her in response. Ranging from tiny to almost as big as Gaul, the ape-shaped straw puppets surrounded her in a circle and she lowered her stance.

If Ember and Flame wanted a show, she would give them one.

For a few minutes, at least, Cynder's world shrank to a small focus point—she saw only the dummies she was fighting and her immediate surroundings, nothing else. Time passed in a blur of fighting. Several strikes of shadow later, the floor was littered with the decapitated bodies of unfortunate dummies. Ember and Flame called encouragement and praise from the sidelines, but Cynder drowned them out as she began to cycle through her elements.

Her worry and frustration bled into her fighting style, and soon the dojo was strewn with the mangled and decapitated remains of training dummies. Every blast of fear, every explosion of shadow, every shot of poison, and every gust of wind was like a sweet moment of relief.

Cynder pushed herself to limits she hadn't since the war, tearing through the dummies with nary a second thought. For a little while, at least, Spyro and the strange note faded to the back of her mind and her senses sharpened to the point that she saw only the 'here and now.' By the time she stabbed her tailblade into the final dummy and tore it apart with claws of shadow, she was panting heavily and her scales were almost standing on end in an attempt to cool her burning body.

She brushed straw and fabric from her scales and sat down at the edge of the dojo arena, gazing around at the devastation she had caused. The severed body parts of puppets were scattered across the stone floor, and straw had been strewn everywhere. Somebody would have to clean this up.

"That was amazing!" Ember crowed as she and Flame approached from the edge of the arena. "I knew you were good, but that was..."

"Scary," Flame finished for her, grimacing. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

Cynder merely grunted, unamused. In the heated moments of battle, she had pushed Spyro and the note to the back of her mind, but they wouldn't stay there for long. Even at the point of exhaustion, her nerves were still tense with the knowledge of what might happen at sundown. She rubbed her eyes and sighed, letting her tired body relax.

"You look kind of exhausted," Ember said.

Cynder shot her a sidelong glance, feeling irritable. "I'm fine. It doesn't take long to recover."

Perhaps it was because of her irritated reply, but Flame and Ember fell silent for a moment after that. Cynder closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as her body slowly recovered from its workout. For a little while, the silence was nice.

"Have you heard from Spyro yet?"

At Ember's words, all of Cynder's worries crawled back and she sagged, uttering an exhausted sigh. She didn't even bother answering, but Ember seemed to understand.

"I guess that's a no," she said. There was another beat of silence, and then, "I'm sure everything will be fine. He's the purple dragon, right? You've got nothing to worry about."

Cynder scowled and straightened up, abruptly getting to her feet and brushing past her friends. "I wish I could believe that. He might be purple, but he's not invincible."

Frustrated, she began shoving the dummy remains into a small pile at the edge of the arena, sweeping straw aside as she did so. She could feel Ember and Flame's eyes on her, but she didn't look up as she went about her task. They didn't understand anyway. They didn't know what it was like to worry like this. And now that Ancestor's damned note...

Cynder sank her teeth into the severed arm of a puppet to stop herself from snarling aloud, and flung it into the pile she'd created. Why was everything going wrong lately? What did the universe have against her? If it wanted to punish her for her crimes, it should have done so months ago. Why now? Hadn't she done enough to show the ancestors that she was no longer the Terror of the Skies?

"Is there anything we can do?" Flame asked hesitantly as she flung another arm into the pile.

Scowling, Cynder was about to tell him to do the impossible and find the writer of the note, but hesitated with the words on her tongue. She didn't want the siblings to know of the note. If they did, there was little doubt that they would try to convince her to let them accompany her when it was time. And if whoever wrote that note intended her harm, she didn't want to put them in danger. They'd already proven to be amateur fighters at best.

Cynder shook her head. "Unless you can find out why Spyro isn't writing to me, I don't think so."

Flame seemed to wilt in response, and for a little while there was silence while Cynder gathered up the rest of the broken dummies. When she was done, she lifted her head and looked out the tall arch windows, eying the sun. It was only early afternoon—sundown was still hours away. Cynder didn't know if she could wait that long; the suspense was already making her irritable.

"Do you want to...?" Ember started, but Cynder shook her head before she'd even finished.

"I'm not going anywhere today," she said, and the words came out more snappy than she had intended.

Ember's shoulders fell and she averted her eyes. Flame sighed. "Maybe we should go, then. You'd clearly rather be alone today."

Cynder just grunted in agreement and saw them to the door of the dojo. They walked the corridors back through the temple in silence, and Cynder soon turned down the hallway that would lead back to her room. She hesitated and looked back to bid her friends goodbye.

"I hope you hear from Spyro soon," Ember said before Cynder had spoken a word. "Sorry we're no help."

"Try not to beat yourself up," Flame added. "It's no good if you're irritated like this all the time."

"I'll be fine," Cynder said shortly, frowning. "Bye."

"See ya," Ember said half-heartedly, her muzzle twisting with disappointment. "See you in a few days?"

Cynder hesitated. "I suppose..."

Somehow, she felt like she was preparing for her own execution and wasn't sure when or if she'd see Flame and Ember again. But she spoke nothing of this as she turned and walked back to her room. She listened to their pawsteps heading off in the other direction, out of the temple, until they faded into silence.

Once outside her room, she hesitated by the door, suddenly afraid to open it. What if Rosemary wasn't there again? But then there was only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath, Cynder breathed a stream of wind over the sensor gem and the door slid open.

Her room was, predictably, empty. Rosemary was nowhere to be seen, and there was no letter from Spyro.

Glumly, Cynder moved to sit by her window. Where was he? Would she ever even see him again? If things went badly at sundown that night, maybe she wouldn't.

Why did the Ancestors see fit to punish her?

Sighing, Cynder rested her chin on the windowsill. No matter how she dreaded it, sunset could not come fast enough.

* * *

Warfang was washed in orange light, turning the sandstone to molten gold. Cynder soared above the buildings, heading northward over the city towards the line of the northern wall. Beyond it, a great flat plain stretched far to the horizon where it met with the shadowy silhouette of a distant mountain range. It was not an unpleasant view, but Cynder scowled all the same.

In the final hours before sunset, she had paced the temple halls and eventually found herself at the Pool of Visions. It had shown her nothing, but she had persisted for a long time despite the knowledge that she did not possess the ability to see visions. It had only served to frustrate her, but the sun was finally sinking and now she was on her way to meet whatever awaited her.

Whatever happened on that wall, she would be ready.

The sun was more than halfway below the horizon when Cynder alighted on the wall, touching down with a series of quick flaps. As her claws hit the stone and she caught her balance, she gazed along the battlements. Apart from a guard at his post near the north-eastern corner, there was no sign of any other creature, be they dragon or mole. Cynder hesitated and, after a moment, sat down. She wasn't sure whether it was safer to keep her back to the city or to the horizon, and eventually decided on the latter. Whoever wrote that note had to be in the city, after all. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

So wait she did, brimming with tension that grew with every passing second.

But the minutes dragged by and no one showed up. The sunset turned from orange to red and then faded to a muted pink as the sky grew darker. Cynder fidgeted on the wall, shooting glances up and down the battlements and at the city streets below as sundown came and went.

No one came.

The darkness grew deeper as the last of the sun's light faded, and Cynder found herself gazing up at the celestial moons—her only source of light. The guard to the east had lit a torch that was like a tiny orange star in the distance. Her tension slowly bled away with very moment that there was no sign of the note-writer, and her shoulders sagged.

Maybe the note had been a joke after all.

Cynder sighed and closed her eyes. She was starting to get tired, and it didn't seem like anyone was coming. She had half a mind just to leave and go back to her room. Maybe she could ask Flame and Ember about it in the morning. If this was their doing, she'd have a few words to say about it...

Somewhere behind her there came a distant rhythmic thumping. At first, Cynder thought nothing of it, her mind elsewhere. But as it grew closer, she realised it sounded like wing-beats. Narrowing her eyes, Cynder tensed and listened hard. It was definitely someone flying in from behind her; from outside the city. It sounded like it was heading straight for her.

Cynder clenched her paws until her talons scraped the sandstone. Closer...closer... At the very last moment, she whirled around, catching a glimpse of a shadowy dragon-like shape about to alight on the wall behind her.

Acting on pure instinct, she spat a concentrated gust of wind from her jaws and was met by a yelp of surprise as the dragon was forced back from the wall. It flapped its wings hard and, to Cynder's surprise, she felt another gust of elemental wind combating hers. She braced herself as the wind washed over her, but forced her eyes open in time to see the dragon land on the wall before her, its claws clattering on the stone.

A cold thrill surged through her and Cynder's instincts kicked into gear.

Before the dragon could catch its balance, she struck, swiping her tail for its forelegs. As it stumbled, she sank into her own shadow and the night-time gloom was replaced with an entirely different darkness that was both warm and alive. Writhing through the shadows towards where she sensed her assailant was, she pushed herself to the surface and erupted beneath the unknown dragon, catching its lower chest on the base of her horns as tendrils of shadow exploded forth around her.

As though the dragon had somehow impossibly expected it, its paws clamped down around her shoulders as it forced its momentum to the side to avoid her pillars of shadow. She screeched as she was pulled down with it, a ripple of pain shooting up her spine as her hindquarters struck the stone ground. Her assailant tumbled down almost on top of her, its paws clutched firmly around her, unwilling to release her no matter how she struggled.

Cynder clenched her teeth and gathered the essence of fear in the back of her throat, lashing her tail angrily as the dragon tried to force her down beneath him. By now, she was quite certain it was a male. Who did he think he was? She would not be bested by an unknown fool before she even got to see his face. Furious, Cynder tried to whip her head around to deliver the shot of fear at point-blank range, but his paw slammed down on the back of her neck and forced her chin against the ground.

Her jaws snapped shut, cutting off the energy she'd almost released. Cynder uttered a strangled shriek through clenched fangs and tried to buck him off, but he was bigger and stronger and she could do nothing as he forced himself on top of her and pressed her down.

"Get off!" she snarled, lashing her tail around but failing to find anything to stab the blade into. The dragon pressed his chest firmly against her back, pinning a wing under one paw and gripping the back of her neck with the other. His hind legs pressed down on either side of hers as his underbelly flattened against her rump. Mortified, Cynder struggled harder. "If you do not let me up right now I will _gut_ you, you foul, disgusting, worthless excuse for—!"

"Cynder!" grunted a voice beside her head. "Cynder, stop! I don't want to hurt you!"

Though the fear, anger and adrenaline pulsing through her head, Cynder thought somewhere in the back of her mind that that voice was familiar, but she was too far gone to care. Wrenching her head back, she tried to spear her assailant with her horns, but his paw forced her back down again with a strength she couldn't hope to match.

"Just _try_ to do what you're thinking, you disgusting wretch," she snarled through her teeth, scoring the stone with her talons. "I'll have you screaming when I'm done with you! Get off me!"

A further weight was added to her neck and Cynder realised it was his chin pressing against the base of her head. She felt his hot breath against her cheek and shivered with a mixture of disgust and rage.

"Cynder," he said in a quieter voice than before. "It's alright. It's me."

Me? Cynder stopped struggling long enough to wonder just who this dragon was, and froze as he nuzzled the back of her neck. His grip on her loosened slightly, but he remained pressed against her back, still holding her down. Cynder's breath caught in her throat. "Who...?"

"Did you forget me already?"

The weight on her back started to lift, but Cynder was frozen to the spot and didn't think to struggle away. With her head clearing of the rush of adrenaline, she was now completely certain she knew that voice—if it was even possible.

"Spyro?" she whispered, hardly daring to hope, her head spinning with the sudden shift from fear to disbelief.

The dragon above her stepped back and she felt the cold night air play across her scales again. Shivering, Cynder sat up abruptly and scrambled away, whirling around to finally look at her assailant. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest it was a wonder it hadn't flown out. The dragon who sat before her looked like a dusky indigo in the moonlight. He was taller and fuller than she remembered, but the lopsided smile on his face looked just the same as it had months ago.

Cynder stared, her mind locking up as it tried to register what she was seeing. This wasn't possible.

"You..." the words left her lips almost off their own accord, barely above a whisper. "You're supposed to be at the northern temple. You're supposed to..."

Cynder closed her eyes and shook her head roughly, trying to snap herself back to her senses. When she glanced back up again, Spyro was still there, only inches away, watching her. Her heart did a strange flip-flop and, slowly, she stepped towards him. Was he real, or was this just an illusion of her troubled mind? It couldn't be...

"I'm home now," he said with a casual nonchalance that left her reeling. He frowned as she hesitated halfway to him, one paw still in the air. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to frighten you..."

Cynder didn't respond. Trembling, she raised her paw and stretched it out towards him. The tips of her claws touched his scales, solid and real, and she snatched her paw back instantly, heart thundering. Her eyes flew up to meet his, taking in his familiar face and the concern that filled it. Her mind struggled to find the words to speak, but she couldn't look away from his gaze.

Spyro.

It was Spyro.

How was that possible?

He reached out a paw towards her, the concern on his face deepening. "Cynder? What's wrong?"

"I... You..." All of a sudden, as his paw brushed her foreleg, her mind snapped back into action. Everything that had happened in the last few weeks—every fear and anxiety she'd held onto for day after day—it all rushed back through her head, filling her with a brimming emotion she couldn't place. It erupted in a burst of something close to anger, and she slapped his paw away, staggering backwards and planting her paws firmly on the ground.

"I waited for you!" she found herself yelling, her chest clenching. "Every day I waited and you didn't write to me! Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought that something had happened to you, or that you didn't want to write to me anymore! I...I was so scared..."

To her horror, her throat constricted and she felt the awful burn of tears behind her eyes. Before she had a chance to turn away, though, Spyro moved forward and pulled her against him. Cynder stiffened at first, her every sense startled by the sudden closeness, but then she felt his warmth surround her and breathed in the scent she'd thought she'd forgotten, and that was it. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she pressed against his chest and rested her head there, shaking.

"I'm sorry," he whispered beside her head as he rested a paw against her back and stroked her scales. "I just wanted to surprise you. I didn't think this would happen."

"You didn't think..." Cynder look a deep, trembling breath and lifted her head from his chest to meet his eyes. "You didn't think I'd be worried if I didn't hear from you?"

Spyro looked as though she had slapped him. The guilt in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and Cynder's chest clenched as he looked away. "I...I don't know. It just happened and I didn't really think about...how you would feel."

He shuddered slightly and closed his eyes, as though the very words he'd spoken pained him, and Cynder almost leaned forward to comfort him. But her head was still full of questions and confusion, and instead she drew back to look at him fully. Nothing made sense.

"So you were the one who wanted to meet me here at sundown?" she asked tremulously, just to be certain.

Spyro nodded slowly, catching her gaze from the corner of his eye. Cynder mouthed wordlessly for a moment, unable to figure out what was happening—what _had_ happened. "But you didn't... It wasn't your writing! I thought that someone wanted to..."

Groaning, Cynder closed her eyes and raised a paw to her forehead. "I don't understand. Just...how? How, Spyro? Explain this to me!"

It didn't make sense. She should have been happy to see him, but all the worry of the last few days, and the fear and confusion of these final few hours, had left her feeling shaken and wary instead. She didn't know whether to embrace him or yell at him, and it felt like it still hadn't sunk in that he was actually there. He was actually back.

Guiltily, Spyro raised his head to meet her eyes. "I just wanted to surprise you. We were making plans to come home when I got your last letter, and I thought that maybe I could surprise you by arriving home without warning. I...I guess I should have written to you first, though..."

"You think?" Cynder trembled and averted her eyes. Why did she feel so betrayed? It was like, all this time, she had been searching for something to lay the blame on—something she could channel all her anger and fear towards—and now here he was. But she didn't want to be angry with him.

"Sparx wrote the note," Spyro continued in a stricken voice. "I asked him to because I knew you'd recognise my writing. I asked Rosemary to give it to you without being seen. And...and here I am."

He tried to smile, but it looked weak and uncertain on his face. "I'm sorry."

Cynder stared at him for a long time, trying to reconcile what he had told her. He'd wanted to surprise her, so he'd written that note. Or rather, he'd had Sparx do it. Rosemary had delivered it without being seen, likely in the middle of the night—which explained how it had been there that morning. Cynder didn't know what to say; she was still reeling with all that had happened so quickly.

At last, a single question left her lips. "Sparx can write?"

Spyro laughed—a short barking laugh that was deeper than she remembered. Then he grinned at her a little lopsidedly. "He's not just a one-trick dragonfly."

"Learn something new everyday..." Cynder shook her head slowly. After all this excitement, and with her fears and worries now put to rest, she suddenly felt exhausted. Swaying a little, she sat down and took a moment to gather her thoughts. It was all too much to take in. For the last three weeks she had worried and waited for Spyro's letter, and now here he was standing on the wall before her. For the first time in almost five months, he was only inches away.

A sudden warmth washed over her and she realised Spyro was now standing right in front of her. She felt his paw touch hers, gentle and uncertain. "Did I hurt you? I didn't think you'd be so startled that you'd try to attack me... This is my fault. I'm sorry."

Cynder drew in a shaky breath and his scent came with it, causing warm fireworks to go off in her stomach. A sudden yearning to be closer to him seized hold of her, and she moved forward, resting her head upon his shoulder. It was harder than she remembered and she realised just how much taller he was. For the second time, his paw curled around her back, reeling her in, and she breathed in his scent once more.

It was him.

It was really him.

"It's okay," she whispered, rubbing her cheek against the side of his neck. "I missed you. So much."

Spyro's paw trembled on her back and suddenly his hold on her tightened, pulling her into a firm, possessive embrace. Cynder gasped and opened her eyes, lifting a paw to place against his chest. His head came to rest at the base of her neck and she shivered as a warm thrill trembled down her spine. Slowly, her eyes closed again.

"I missed _you_," he whispered hoarsely.

For a moment they sat like that in silence, soaking in the warmth of one another, and Cynder felt like she never wanted to leave his embrace. He began to gently stroke her back, his paw sliding warmly over her scales, and she hardly felt the cold night breeze. The last of her anger and uncertainty had trickled away and a sense of relief washed over her. She pulled back a little, wanting to see his face again—to know that it was really him.

"You're taller," was all she could think to say when she met his eyes. She had almost forgotten that shade of lilac.

Spyro chuckled a little nervously and scratched the back of his jaw. "Cyril says I'm going through a growth spurt."

His eyes travelled over her body and his smile softened. "And you're just as beautiful as I remember."

Cynder felt her face heat up, but before she could do or say anything, Spyro pulled her in closer again. She drew in a sharp breath as she felt his muzzle pressing against the side of her neck. The warmth of his breath played across her scales and she closed her eyes. This was actually happening. This was real.

"I'm home." His voice was deep and throaty, and she felt it as he spoke against the side of her neck.

A warm shiver shuddered down her spine. "You're back..."

They pulled apart after a few moments, and Cynder couldn't help the smile that bloomed across her face as she gazed at him. It had been so long that she'd thought she'd forgotten what he looked like, but his face and his eyes were so familiar that it was as though they'd never spent time apart. A happy, bubbly feeling was rising in her chest, and all the tension of before had drained away. He was _back_.

Spyro yawned widely and Cynder caught a glisten of exhausted tears in the corners of his eyes.

"You look tired," she said, smiling gently.

"I thought I wouldn't make it," he admitted, grinning tiredly as he pawed the tears from his eyes. "I flew all day trying to get here on time. Wish I had Rosemary's speed."

A thought occurred to Cynder and she frowned. "Sparx isn't with you? What about Cyril?"

"They stayed back with Avgustin," Spyro said. "They'll be here tomorrow, but I wanted to get back early to surprise you."

"Avgustin?" Cynder raised in eyebrow. "You mean...?"

Spyro grinned. "I guess he wanted to see Warfang for himself."

"So you got through to him. I knew you would." She stepped closer and rested her head on his shoulder again. "Does this mean you're back for good?"

"I think so." Spyro stroked her paw slowly. "I doubt they need me for anything else. You, on the other paw..."

Cynder pulled back and gazed into his eyes. "I missed you."

"I know."

She pressed forward, brushing the tip of her muzzle against his, and he moved in kind, nuzzling her with all the gentle affection that she had longed for in his absence. A sigh escaped her lips. It had been so long, but he was finally there. She wanted to be closer to him.

"Want to go back to the temple?" she whispered as she pulled away.

Through half-lidded eyes she saw him smile. "I think I'd like to sleep in your room tonight."

Even if she'd wanted to argue, she didn't think she would have had the heart to refuse those words. A warm shiver ran down her spine and she pressed close to him again, just to take in his scent one more time. It was enough to make her dizzy with want.

"I think I'd like that..."

* * *

The torch on Cynder's wall cast warm orange light over her room, turning Spyro's violet scales a rich fiery purple. Only in the light was Cynder really able to appreciate the changes his body had gone through in the months he'd been away. He wasn't just taller. His muscles seemed to have developed and his wingspan had grown. Even his horns were longer and sharper, and little orange-yellow lumps along his jaw-line suggested that frills were growing in.

Cynder didn't remember him looking quite so handsome. Not that she was complaining. But she felt a little slender and small beside him.

Spyro scratched at the back of his jaw yet again as the door closed behind them. "It's so itchy here; I can't stand it."

"Let me see." Cynder stepped forward and craned her muzzle to the side of his head. Maybe it was only an excuse to get closer to him, but she was sure he wouldn't complain. She peered at the purple scales at the back of his jaw, just below his horns, and frowned at the little bump pressing through. "I think your secondary horns are growing in."

"Figures." Spyro tossed his head. "Why does it have to be so itchy?"

Struck by a sudden strange urge, Cynder smirked and leant forward, dragging the tip of her tongue over the back of his jaw. His scales were smooth and cold. Spyro froze and she pulled away slowly, unable to keep the smile from her face. "Is that better?"

"A little..." Spyro turned his head ever so slightly and Cynder couldn't quite read his expression. "Maybe you should do it again."

Her cheeks feeling a little warm, Cynder smirked and obliged. She did it slower this time, pressing her tongue against the smooth scales behind his jaw, taking in his scent. A strange guttural sound thrummed deep in Spyro's throat and he shifted faster than she had anticipated. Before she realised what was happening, he'd pressed their muzzles together, his paw at her cheek, holding her in place. Her heart fluttered and warmth bloomed deep inside her.

His soft scales caressed hers for a moment too short and he pulled away again, leaving her breathless and hot. But his face remained there, so close that she could see every fleck of lilac in his irises. She felt like she should say something, but there were no words in her head. Spyro pushed forward again, his paws creeping down to her flank, pressing his muzzle into the side of her neck.

Before she knew it, Cynder found herself with her back to the floor, pinned beneath his weight, sighing as he licked the scales along her neck. Feeling both warm and helpless, she could do little more than wrap her paws around his shoulders and hold him close, yearning for his warmth. She never wanted to let him go.

All of a sudden, Cynder realised just how close their bodies were. His hind legs were planted firmly on either side of her lower body, and on instinct she'd lifted hers so that her paws rested on either side of his hindquarters. A thrill shot down her spine. In this position, she was completely at his mercy.

The firelight played across his face as he raised his head until they were muzzle-to-muzzle, and their eyes met. Cynder opened her mouth to tell him three words she knew she would mean this time, but he pressed his muzzle to hers again and she didn't get the chance. Her eyes closed of their own accord as he nuzzled her and a wordless groan escaped her lips as he trailed his tongue along the base of her jaw.

"You feel so small and fragile..." His breath tickled her neck and his chuckle reverberated into her chest.

Cynder uttered a wordless hum, half-annoyed and half-amused, and placed her paws to his cheeks to bring his face up to hers. "I'm not fragile. You've just gotten bigger."

He smirked and licked the tip of her muzzle, eliciting a giggle that she couldn't hold back. His grin widening, he nuzzled her cheek and she felt his tail curling around hers.

"Spyro..." Her whisper brought his head back up until their eyes met again, and he smiled.

"Do you want me to get off?"

Cynder hesitated and, in that split second, felt a sudden fear rush through her. She didn't want him to leave. "No..."

Spyro's eyes softened and he touched his muzzle to hers gently. "I love you, Cynder."

She closed her eyes, wrapped her paws around the back of his neck, and pulled him closer to bury her muzzle in the side of his neck. "I love you."

A low growl thrummed deep in Spyro's throat and he lowered his body on top of hers until their chests were almost touching. Cynder gasped and shuddered as he nipped at her neck, tugging at her scales and licking along the soft magenta line of her throat. She pulled him closer and tipped her head back, uttering mindless coos of pleasure as he raised one paw and settled in on her chest, kneading her scales.

Her head spun and heat flared deep in her stomach as her mind was wrought by a carnal want—a burning need to be closer to him. She begged for it with a single word. "Spyro..."

He hummed and nipped at her neck before moving his muzzle up to dance with hers. She opened her eyes a fraction as their breath met and mingled. His shimmered only inches away, and though he spoke no words, she saw everything in those eyes. His wants, his needs, his reassurance, his love. All of it for her. She closed her eyes and held him tight.

Their bodies moved in unison as though they had known what to do all along, guided only by instinct. Time passed in a blur of gentle warmth and pleasure, and her every thought was captured by him and him alone. A bubble of heat and want encased her, and in those moments she had never felt more in love. To be so close to Spyro felt right—more right than she could have ever imagined.

For that night, he was all that mattered.


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

Morning light crawled over her muzzle and onto her eyelids, waking Cynder from her slumber. She opened her eyes slowly, feeling somehow heavier than usual. When she tried to roll over, she realized something was pressed against her back and a paw was draped over her side, holding her in place. Craning her head over her shoulder, she saw Spyro's head resting on the cushion close to her neck. He'd pulled her to his chest and their wings were tangled together like a blanket over their bodies. Though she couldn't see it, she could feel his tail curled tightly around hers.

Sighing and smiling softly, Cynder laid her head back on the cushion, snuggling closer against him. He mumbled wordlessly and his paw tightened around her. She shivered as he nuzzled into the base of her neck just above her shoulders. Last night... That had happened last night.

Smiling a little stronger, Cynder shifted her paw down until it found his resting on her side. She stroked his soft scales and closed her eyes, replaying it all in her head. She felt warm just thinking about it. They hadn't even discussed it; they'd hardly talked at all. It had just happened, as though it was what they had intended to do all along; as though it was meant to happen. It had felt right.

For a little while, Cynder lay in Spyro's embrace in a sort of half-doze, lost in thoughts of the night before, remembering the way he'd held her as though he was hers and she belonged to him. Eventually, he stirred and awoke, and Cynder manoeuvred herself around to face him as he sleepily opened his eyes.

"Hey."

Spyro smiled, rubbing one eye free of sleep. "Hey."

She touched the tip of her muzzle to his. "Sleep well?"

He trailed his paw down her flank and she didn't resist as he slowly pushed her onto her back and crawled on top of her. "Better than usual."

Smirking, Spyro nuzzled the base of her jaw and placed a gentle nip there that made Cynder shiver. She placed her paws on his shoulders, unable to keep the grin from her face. "You're eager this morning."

Spyro chuckled breathily against her neck. "Last night was so good that I kind of want more of you... Don't think I got enough."

He nipped at her jaw again and Cynder uttered a deep-throated moan that she hadn't meant to. She shifted under him, trying to think through that familiar warm fuzz encasing her mind. "When are Cyril and the others getting here?"

"Probably not until past midday," Spyro mumbled against her scales, trailing gentle nips down her neck between words and making her shiver.

A wry smile worked its way onto her face. "We've got a bit of time, then."

Spyro just chuckled and licked along the line of her throat until he reached her chin. He placed a nip there and Cynder hummed with pleasure, raising her paws to his shoulders and sliding them along the smooth scales of his neck. She found his crest and teased it between her claws as he nuzzled her neck and nipped her a little harder. A groan escaped her lips and she blindly moved her head until she found the tip of his muzzle against her own.

She pressed their soft scales together, opening her mouth slightly to take in his warmth, shivering as the heat of his breath mingled with hers. How she'd missed this. For so long she had yearned for even a short embrace, and as he pressed her down into the cushions and enveloped her entirely, she couldn't get enough. Spyro. Her Spyro.

Soon Cynder found herself on her belly, half on the floor, her upper body splayed over her cushions. She looked over her shoulder as Spyro crawled on top of her, covering her completely with his body, pressing her down into the cushions and trapping the heat between them. She was helpless and trapped beneath him, and it sent a hot thrill through her veins. He eased down upon her gently and slowly, so different from the way he had pinned her down on the wall the previous evening. The gentle nips he placed along the back of her neck sent warm shivers down her spine, feeding the welling heat deep in her belly.

There were no more words after that, and Cynder's world was lost in a haze of heat and desire. When she was next able to think clearly, she found herself stretched out across her cushions with Spyro draped over her, their tails entwined. With his new height came extra weight, but Cynder didn't mind. She just lay still, catching her breath and listening to him do the same as he lay atop her.

"You're so beautiful," he mumbled against her neck. "And you're all mine... What did I do to deserve this?"

"You did save the world," Cynder reminded him, smirking. Spyro snorted and nipped her neck, and she chuckled. A contented sigh escaped her lips. "And you saved me... In more ways than you realise."

"Cynder..." The weight of his head lifted from the back of her neck, and she rolled over onto her side to look up at him. He gazed down at her with gentle eyes, but there was a kind of sadness in their depths.

"It's okay," she murmured, raising a paw to his cheek and caressing those warm smooth scales. "Everything is fine now, because you're here."

Spyro leant into her paw, a gentle smile touching his lips. "I'm with you."

Cynder lifted her head and he bent down to meet her until their muzzles touched once more. It was a slow, gentle nuzzle, brimming with unspoken affection that had been pent up for months. When they parted, Cynder could do little but gaze into his eyes, losing herself in the love she saw there. He stroked his paw along her belly and for a moment they sat in silence, drowning in words unspoken.

Eventually, Cynder was forced to move when her position became gradually more uncomfortable. She rolled onto her belly and nuzzled Spyro's cheek. "Come on, we should probably get cleaned up."

* * *

Like many of the larger dwellings at Warfang, the temple had its own private bath room. It didn't quite have the same atmosphere as the public baths, but it was cool, quiet and perfect for Spyro and Cynder's intentions. The huge oblong bath was big enough to fit a number of adult dragons, which meant they had more than enough room to play and wash in the waters.

Cynder grinned and ducked the splash that Spyro aimed her way, drenching him with a spray of water that she flicked up with her tailblade. He laughed and waded towards her, taking her in his paws before she could squirm away and licking the water from her neck. She tried to push him away, giggling breathlessly, but he hooked his paws around her wings and pulled her down with him.

The water engulfed them in a great splash and Cynder closed her eyes and held her breath as she went under. The cold nipped at her face and she felt Spyro's paws travelling down her body as he manoeuvred himself out from under her. She tried to struggle to the surface, but his paws gripped her tightly and pulled her up instead. As her head broke the water, she took a great gasp of air and blinked the droplets from her eyes.

Spyro's grinning face met her gaze as his paws hugged her closer. With a wry smirk, Cynder leaned forward and pressed their muzzles together in a fierce, wet nuzzle. She'd missed this. He growled deep in his throat and licked warmly along the edge of her jaw.

"Think we're clean enough yet?" he whispered beside her head, caressing her back with both paws.

Cynder nuzzled his neck, brimming with a kind of mischievous happiness. "Not quite."

She pushed her paws into his chest and he fell back, flaring his wings out to catch himself upon the water's surface. Cynder did the same as she crawled upon him, clutching to his shoulders. The water buoyed them as they floated into the deeper centre of the bath.

"We still need to let the other Guardians know you're back," Cynder said as they floated together.

"I don't think we're in any rush." Spyro's paw teased the wet scales on the side of her neck. "Cyril probably already sent word that we'd be returning soon. They can wait a little longer."

Cynder hummed in agreement and leant a little closer until the tips of their muzzles were almost brushing. "Good... I want to keep you to myself for a little longer."

A smirk crept onto Spyro's face and he touched his muzzle briefly to hers. "One would think you'd missed me or something."

"Funny about that." She bypassed his muzzle and rubbed the side of her face against his, relishing the touch of his velvety scales against hers.

He stroked the back of her neck, teasing her silver crest, and his voice took on a sombre tone. "I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I did the best I could to get back to you as quickly as possible, but..."

Cynder raised her head and silenced him with a look. "It's not your fault, Spyro. If anything, it's Cyril for being such a stubborn..."

She cleared her throat and looked away for a moment. When she looked back, Spyro was grinning and she rolled her eyes. "What I mean is that I know you did everything you could, and now you're back. With me. And you convinced the Wind Guardian to come too. I'm proud of you, Spyro."

His paw moved up to her cheek. The grin had already faded from his face. "But you missed me."

"Every day." Cynder closed her eyes and rested her chin on his shoulder. The water lapped at her scales, but she ignored it. "But you came back. And nothing has changed."

Spyro shifted under her and she felt the water engulf her hindquarters as the support beneath her vanished. She sat up, treading water and gazing at Spyro across from her, frowning. There was a kind of twinkle in his eye. "I wouldn't say that."

"What do you mean?" A sudden spike of fear surged through her. Had something happened while he had been with the wind dragons?

"We're not courting anymore." He paddled a little closer until their chests were almost touching. Stunned, Cynder opened her mouth to say something, but Spyro leant closer and spoke before she could. "We're mates now."

A warm thrill shuddered through her. She hadn't even thought of it yet; she'd just been so preoccupied with having him back and finally being closer to him than ever before that she hadn't even thought about what that meant. A smile found its way onto her face.

"I'd say that's a pretty big change." Spyro's eyes twinkled, but then he seemed to hesitate and a shadow passed over his face. He drew back slightly. "But I don't have anything to give you... I didn't expect it to happen so soon after I came back. I didn't have time to get you anything..."

Cynder wanted to roll her eyes or laugh, but instead she just smiled and placed her paws around his. "I think what you gave me last night was enough."

"But tradition says..."

She licked the tip of his muzzle and he shut his mouth. "To have you back was all I ever wanted."

Spyro grinned a little sheepishly and nuzzled her. She cooed and nuzzled in turn, only to pause and pull away as a realization came to her. Frowning, she met Spyro's eyes. "How did you know about that tradition? About...the mating ritual..."

If it was possible, Spyro's grin seemed to get even more sheepish. He looked away, beating his wings nervously in the water. "I might have...read about it a while ago."

A smirk tugged at Cynder's mouth. "How long ago?"

He shot her a look from the corner of his eye. "About a month after we started courting."

A thrill of surprise shot through her and Cynder straightened in the water, letting go of his paws. "A month?! That's... Why so soon?"

Her face burned at the thought. Spyro had been thinking about this that long ago?

"I just figured we'd go through with it eventually..." Spyro's gaze flew back to her and he looked just as embarrassed as she felt. "I just wanted to be prepared."

Cynder stared at him, her face hot, until the strangest urge to laugh bubbled in her chest. She chuckled softly and took his paws again, feeling even lighter than before. "You're such a drake."

Spyro smirked and leaned forward to nuzzle her again. When he pulled back, there was a mischievous glint in his eye. "And what about you? Sounds like you knew about it too. When did you get curious?"

The blood rushed back to her face. "Only...only a few weeks ago. I kept having dreams about you while you were gone..."

His paws crept around her middle and reeled her in, and he pressed his muzzle into the side of her neck. She could hear the grin in his voice as he murmured against her scales, "Guess you _really_ missed me."

"Spyro..." she whined, embarrassed.

"It's okay," he whispered into her neck. "I had dreams of you too."

In an instant, her embarrassment was replaced by a warm thrill like electricity shooting down her shine. She weaved her paws around his shoulders and held him close, struck by a sudden rush of affection towards him. A short moment of comfortable silence fell upon them and it was only when the water started feeling a little too cold for comfort that Cynder broke the embrace.

"We should probably get out. I think my scales are shrivelling up."

At Spyro's nod, she paddled side-by-side with him back to the edge of the bath and crawled out onto the warm sandstone. Yawning, she stretched and shook the water from her body as best she could. Spyro scooted up beside her and rubbed his cheek against hers, slicking water across her scales. She scowled at him as she pawed the moisture from her cheek, but he merely grinned and licked the tip of her muzzle.

"We should go see the Guardians," he said, inclining his head towards the door. "Cyril and the others should be getting back soon."

Relaxing, Cynder nodded and pressed against his side. He curled his wing over her back and they left the bath room together.

* * *

"I was informed you wouldn't return until later today, young dragon." Terrador cast a scrutinizing gaze over Spyro and Cynder as they stood at the door to his office. He filled the doorway with his massive girth, demanding their attention even without words.

Cynder gave Spyro a nervous glance, but he answered smoothly with hardly a beat of hesitation. "I wanted to return early. I guess I was a little impatient to see Cynder again."

The Earth Guardian was silent for a moment until he nodded his huge head. "That is the way of young dragons. I would have been the same at your age. When did you return?"

"Last night," Spyro replied without missing a beat. "Sorry I didn't tell you. It was late and I was tired from the flight."

He glanced sideways at Cynder and she smiled uncertainly, her face growing hot at the remembrance of what had occurred last night. She glanced up at Terrador, suddenly worried that he would catch the implication, but he gave no indication that he had.

"That is understandable," he said, inclining his head to Spyro. "Nevertheless, it is good to see you return safe and well. It has been some time. I assume Cyril is on his way as we speak?"

Cynder breathed out a silent sigh of relief as Spyro started to answer. In truth, she wasn't sure why such a thought had worried her in the first place. Sooner or later it would have to come out that she and Spyro were now mates, and it wasn't like what they had done was taboo. There wasn't even any risk of unplanned eggs, if what she had read not so long ago was true, as she had a few years yet until she was fully grown and fertile.

All the same, the thought of someone else—not least the old Earth Guardian—finding out about that most intimate of acts was enough to make her squirm with discomfort. She doubted he wanted that mental image, anyway.

"Cynder? Everything alright?"

At the sound of Spyro's voice, Cynder blinked and stood up straighter, startled from her thoughts. There was a strange look on his face, somewhere between bemused and concerned, and she realised Terrador was looking at her too. "I... Did you say something?"

"Just that we're going to go find Volteer and then head to the north wall to wait for Cyril," Spyro replied, his expression unchanged. He stepped a little closer. "Are you okay? You looked like you were thinking about something uncomfortable."

At once, the blood rushed to her cheeks. Cynder cleared her throat softly and averted her eyes. "It's nothing. Just...silly thoughts. Shall we go?"

"We should," Terrador agreed, glancing over his shoulder towards the window on the other side of his office. "Midday is not far off. Cyril will likely arrive soon, and we must be there to greet the Wind Guardian. Come."

Spyro stepped aside, ushering Cynder along with him as Terrador stepped out and the door to his office closed behind him. As the Earth Guardian started down the corridor towards Volteer's study, Cynder and Spyro fell into step behind him. Still a little embarrassed, Cynder jumped when Spyro nudged her shoulder gently.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked in little more than a whisper. "You looked a little worried."

Cynder faltered and almost tripped over her own paws, but caught herself just in time. Glancing at Spyro, she smiled a little shyly. "I was just hoping Terrador didn't figure out what we did last night."

Spyro's eyes widened, but his surprise quickly morphed in a roguish kind of grin. "You just can't get me out of your head now, can you?"

"Spyro!" she hissed, nudging his withers roughly before shooting a swift glance at Terrador to make sure he hadn't heard. She glared back at Spyro. "I can't believe you."

He smirked and nuzzled her cheek, pressing against her side as they walked. "I'm just teasing. I don't think there's any need to worry. We'll have to tell them we're mates eventually."

"I know," she murmured, resting the side of her head against his neck. "But let's just keep it to ourselves for now."

Spyro chuckled softly and hugged her closer with a wing. Within minutes, they had stopped outside of Volteer's door. Terrador knocked loudly and there was a short beat of silence before the door slid open, revealing the excited face of the Electric Guardian. He looked about to say something—most likely to greet his fellow Guardian—when his vibrant eyes darted down to Spyro and Cynder.

"Good Ancestors!" he said, beaming. "Spyro has returned already! It's simply wonderful, magnificent, splendid to behold you once more, young dragon!"

"It's good to see you too, Volteer," Spyro said, grinning.

"Now where is Cyril?" Volteer asked, looking to and fro down the corridor. "That pompous old coot and I have much to catch up on. Why, the hypotheses I've fashioned in his absence..."

"Cyril has not returned yet," Terrador cut in before Volteer could head off on another of his long-winded tangents. "If you would accompany us to the north wall, we can welcome our old friend and his guest when they arrive."

"Naturally, of course I'd be there! If you would just give me a moment to..." Muttering to himself, Volteer turned and disappeared back into his study. There was a series of quick shuffling sounds, and Cynder peered around the frame of the door to see him hurriedly pushing aside the countless books and scrolls scattered all over his floor and desk. She hid her grin as Volteer turned back to them, looking no more flustered that before.

"Now then!" he said, stepping out to join them in the corridor. "Shall we adjourn to the wall to greet our returning comrades?"

At Terrador's nod, the four of them started back through the temple corridors towards the outside streets. Volteer kept up lively conversation as they walked, curiously inquiring about Spyro's early return and congratulating him—for whatever reason—on his growth spurt. Cynder listened with equal amounts of amusement and exasperation, wondering how Spyro put up with it all. But she couldn't help but realise how much she had missed this.

She had never felt comfortable around the Guardians herself, and had seen them only briefly during the months Spyro had been away from Warfang. Now, with him back again and Volteer's excited voice once more filling the silence, Cynder felt a kind of warmth in her chest. It was good to have Spyro back. Things hadn't been the same without him.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, Cynder, Spyro and the Guardians were standing on the north wall under the midday heat, watching the sky. It was only then that Cynder started to feel a little nervous. What would the Wind Guardian think of her? The very reason she had not gone with Spyro to the north temple was because of her past and the guarded nature of the wind dragons. The Guardians had suspected she would not be received well, but had that changed now that Avgustin had put aside his distrust of the outside world to travel to Warfang?

She couldn't rely on it, not even with all the faith she had in Spyro. He might have gained the trust of the Wind Guardian, but that didn't mean he had calmed Avgustin's suspicions of everything. For all she knew, Spyro had never even mentioned her to the Wind Guardian.

It wasn't long before a small group came into view through the puffy clouds. Cynder could just make out a tiny yellow speck between the imposing figures of two large dragons. She recognized Cyril as they flew closer, but her attention was quickly stolen by the unfamiliar grey dragon flying beside him. Unease writhed in her stomach.

Within moments, the two dragons had landed on the battlements nearby. As Terrador and Volteer moved to greet the Wind Guardian, Cynder hung back with Spyro and watched. She didn't have much time to scrutinise the grey dragon, however, because suddenly her vision was filled with yellow.

"Terror!" cried a familiar voice.

Once used almost as an insult, that word had become an endearing nickname that only one creature in all the Dragon Realms would dare use.

Cynder stepped back to get a little distance between Sparx and her face and glared at him. "Nice to see you too, gnat."

Sparx buffed his chest with his tiny knuckles. "It's always nice to see me. Did my favourite dragoness miss me? Give us a hug."

Cynder wasn't sure whether to grin or grimace as Sparx darted forward and wrapped his twiggy arms around her muzzle. She heard Spyro sniggering beside her and nudged him roughly with her shoulder. When Sparx didn't let go, she tried to glare at him but only ended up cross-eyed. "I think that'll do, Sparx."

Sparx let her go and fluttered away from her muzzle, grinning. "Just making up for all that time you missed out on my company. Must'a been awful."

"Yes," she said plainly. "Terrible."

Whether Sparx had heard the blatant sarcasm in her voice or not, he didn't show it. Instead he turned his attention on Spyro and flew over to give him a hearty slap on the horn. "Looks like my little bro made it back safely. I hope you took care of him when I wasn't there to keep him company last night, Terror."

Cynder opened her mouth to reply, but froze when the likely unintentional implication of Sparx's words struck her. A sly grin found its way onto her face. "You could say that."

She shared a glance with Spyro, and his eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement. Sparx seemed to notice, or perhaps he heard the suggestive lilt to her voice, because he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and eyed them both. "What? Am I not getting something?"

"Of course not," Spyro said, still grinning. "Cynder took very good care of me last night."

He shot her a short, sly look that she almost didn't catch.

Sparx's eyes narrowed further and he backed away slightly, folding his arms. "You know what, I don't wanna know."

Cynder snorted softly and cleared her throat in an attempt to keep her sudden urge to laugh at bay. Still looking suspicious, Sparx seemed relieved to be able to turn around and point out the approach of the Guardians. At once, Cynder stopped trying not to laugh and stood up straighter, a thrill of nervousness shooting through her. Cyril smiled almost warmly at her and Spyro, but her gaze was drawn to the tall grey dragon beside him.

Perched upon his shoulder was a familiar falcon, looking somehow proud of herself. Cynder smiled at Rosemary briefly, but her attention was quickly captured by the dragon himself.

The Wind Guardian was taller than any of the other Guardians, with a lithe, thin body that looked more like it belonged to a dragoness than a drake. He had a slim tapered head and a long pair of white whiskers trailed down on either side of his pointed muzzle. Two sets of straight ivory horns that curled upwards at the tips graced the back of his head, and a tall wavy frill ran from the crown of his head all the way down to the base of his tail.

All in all, he was an intimidating specimen, and the intense green of his eyes only added to that image. Cynder tried not to shrink away as he scrutinised her with those eyes. She dearly hoped that Spyro's efforts had calmed the Wind Guardian's distrusting nature somewhat.

"So, you're the one I've heard so much about," he said at last. He had a smooth, pleasant voice that was a far cry from Terrador's brass baritone or Volteer's excited chatter. "Cynder, yes? Spyro has spoken highly of you."

"I..." Cynder shot a look at Spyro, startled, and he offered her a gentle smile. She swallowed and looked back up at the wind dragon. "Yes, I'm Cynder. You're Avgustin, the Wind Guardian, right?"

Avgustin nodded once, his expression unchanged. "I must confess, when I heard the rumours some years ago, I never expected to meet the Terror of the Skies."

Cynder tensed her jaw and braced herself. She had known it was coming.

But then Avgustin glanced from her to Spyro and back again, and his vivid green eyes seemed to soften. "I see now that I never will. It's a pleasure to meet you, Cynder. You look just as Spyro described."

Relief flooded her like a cool wave and she found herself smiling up at the Wind Guardian. "It's good to meet you too. Welcome to Warfang."

For the first time, a smile touched his slim face. "It's an honour to be here."

At once, the impression Cynder had gotten of Avgustin throughout the course of Spyro's letters melted away. Over the next hour, she and Spyro accompanied him and the other Guardians back to the temple, exchanging stories and conversation about what had occurred during the last few months. The way Avgustin spoke marked him as a Guardian who cared greatly for his subjects, one who wanted only to protect and do right by them. Cynder found she could not blame him for his suspicions of Spyro, though she did notice a certain amount of pride to him that was likely what had put him at odds with Cyril.

Eventually, the talk turned to the future of the wind dragons and Warfang, and all that had been accomplished by Spyro and Cyril during their stay at the northern temple.

"I'm sure you can understand my hesitation, but your purple dragon has given me hope and allayed my fears," Avgustin had said. "It has been hundreds of years since we wind dragons fled to the north, and I would like nothing more than to see dragonkind brought together once more."

Cynder couldn't help but feel proud of Spyro after that. As if fixing the world had not been enough, he was still mending Malefor's wrongs against the realms. Although, as Avgustin said, there was still a way to go until the wind dragons could relocate back to Warfang, what Spyro and Cyril had achieved was nothing short of remarkable.

As talk shifted to the soon-to-be-instigated Council of Warfang, Sparx yawned widely and nudged Spyro's muzzle. "What say we leave these old geezers to yap about boring stuff and go do something more interesting?"

Cynder glanced over to them just as Spyro nodded.

"Sounds good to me," he said before meeting her eyes. "Coming?"

She smiled. "Just the three of us?"

Spyro glanced sideways at Sparx and grinned. "Just like old times."

* * *

Mid-afternoon found the trio at the Warfang Gardens, where Spyro and Cynder sat together beneath the shade of a willow tree and watched Sparx chasing butterflies amongst the clover.

"And he thinks _we're_ brutal," Cynder remarked, grimacing as Sparx shoved a butterfly whole into his mouth. She smirked and nestled closer to Spyro, resting her head against the side of his neck.

He chuckled and stroked her paw, and they lapsed into silence again. Cynder didn't mind. Spyro had been gone for so long that she had worried it would take them a little while to get used to each other again, but it had happened instantly. It was almost like they had never been apart at all. And just like she had before, she felt content just to be close to him. Sometimes words just weren't needed.

"Hey," Spyro said after a moment. "You still have to introduce me to those friends of yours."

"Flame and Ember?" Cynder nuzzled his neck. "I almost forgot... I saw them only yesterday. I should probably apologise; I was a bit snappish with them."

"That's not like you," Spyro remarked and she felt him shift slightly. "I guess you were stressed."

She snorted against his scales. "You hadn't sent me a letter in ages and then I got that weird note... Of course I was stressed."

Although she didn't lift her head to see, Spyro's sheepish grin was easy to imagine. "...Sorry."

Smirking, she raised her head and nuzzled his cheek. "You're forgiven. And you'll have plenty of time to meet them, but today I'd like to keep you all to myself..."

"Minus Sparx," Spyro pointed out.

Cynder rolled her eyes. "Minus Sparx."

A great rumbling belch came from the dragonfly's direction, and Cynder glanced across to see him rubbing his stomach—or whatever it was that insects had instead of stomachs. He caught her look and fluttered over, wiping his mouth. "What's up, Terror?"

"Your manners," Cynder shot back.

"I'd like to call it 'showing appreciation for a good meal'," Sparx said. He grinned at Cynder. "You two are looking pretty cosy."

"You can join in if you want, Sparx," Spyro said, his eyes twinkling amusedly.

Sparx rolled his eyes and made a disgusted face. "No thanks. I don't do all that mushy stuff."

Cynder eyed him slyly. "Need I remind you who hugged who earlier today?"

Sparx smiled innocently. "Only 'cause I knew how much you'd missed me! A few months without the awesomeness of Sparx; how _did_ you survive?"

"It's a mystery," Cynder muttered.

"So, what now?" Sparx asked after a moment, stretching his arms behind his head. "I forget what there is to do around this place."

"Whatever you want to do, Sparx," Spyro said, hugging Cynder closer with a wing. "I'd just like to relax for a while."

"Eh, I guess that'll do."

When Sparx had settled down on a branch somewhere above their heads, the three of them lapsed into silence for a while. It was only then that Spyro seemed to remember something and he sat up a little straighter, surprising Cynder.

"What is it?" she asked, tensing a little.

"I just remembered something Cyril was talking about while we were away," he said. "Apparently, before the war, one the Guardians' duties was to hold lessons for young dragons to teach them about their elements, and dragon traditions and stuff. When they became war generals, that kind of...stopped. But they want to start it up again when they establish the Council of Warfang."

"Sounds interesting..." Cynder shrugged and rested her head on his shoulder again.

"He said we could even help out if we wanted. It would be kind of like being honorary Guardians. You know, without all the traditions..."

Cynder lifted her head again, meeting his gaze, suddenly interested. "We could? Well...I wouldn't mind. As long as we don't have to uphold that certain tradition..."

Spyro pressed his muzzle against hers and she closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth as he nuzzled her gently. When he pulled away, he rested his cheek against hers and whispered, "Don't worry. We're mated now, and I won't let anything else take me away from you again."

Cynder sighed and leant into him. "Do you promise?"

"I do."

She smiled gently and squeezed his paw.

After a moment of silence, a thought occurred to her and Cynder pulled away from him. "So what was it like? Getting to know Cyril and the wind dragons, I mean."

"Well, the wind dragons were pretty nice. A lot like us, really, just a little more guarded. It was nice to see a place that wasn't touched by the war." A grin touched his face. "As for Cyril... Before I would have said he's just proud and a little snobbish, but now... He's actually got a sense of humour. Apparently he and Volteer have been friends since they were hatchlings; they just show it in weird ways. He told me stories about them and all of the stupid situations they got themselves in. He's proud, sure, but he's not full of himself."

"I guess it takes a journey to the other side of the realms to get to know someone better," Cynder said.

Spyro glanced sideways at her, smirking. "Maybe for some dragons. But I think I got to know you pretty well just in your bedroom."

"Spyro!" she hissed, grinning. She nudged his ribs with her elbow. "When did you get so bold?"

In a moment, he'd pressed his muzzle to hers once again and nuzzled her slowly for a long time. When he finally pulled back, she was breathless and dizzy, but she couldn't look away from his lilac eyes. "When I decided I didn't want to be away from you ever again."

Cynder drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his. "That's good, then, since I decided I want to always be with you."

He chuckled softly. "I'm glad we're in agreement."

Smiling gently, Cynder opened her eyes and caught his gaze only inches from hers. For a moment she felt like she could see straight through to his heart, and her own fluttered when he didn't look away. It was as though he was seeing all of her at once. And, despite all her flaws he must have been able to see, he didn't look away. Maybe it was then that she remembered just how much she loved him.

Even Sparx's painfully tuneless whistling wasn't quite enough to ruin the moment.


	12. Chapter 12

**12**

Near sunset, Cynder walked the streets of Warfang alone. She'd been reluctant to leave Spyro's side at all, but something had been eating at her mind ever since Spyro had asked in the gardens, and she knew what she had to do. Leaving him behind at the temple, she made her way to the little stone dwelling in the southern district. Approaching the round door with bronze dragon-head peep-hole, Cynder knocked twice and stepped back.

As first no one answered, but then the door creaked open and a curious red face peered out. As Cynder met Flame's eyes, he threw the door open completely. "Cynder! What are you doing here this late?"

"Is Ember in?" she asked. "There's something I wanted to talk to you both about. It'll only take a moment."

"Yeah... Sure. Hang on a sec." Looking a little bemused, Flame disappeared back into the house and Cynder waited for a minute or two. Eventually, he reappeared with his eager sister at his tail.

"What's up?" Ember said as she came to a stop on the doorstep. Flame lingered slightly behind her, looking curious.

Cynder thought for a short moment how to word what she wanted to say. "I just wanted to apologise for how I acted yesterday. And, well, most of this week. I've been a little stressed and worried, but that was no reason to take it out on you two."

Flame shrugged. "You weren't that bad..."

"Mum snaps at us more than that!" Ember agreed, grinning slightly. Then her eyes softened. "But thanks. Are you feeling any better now? We would have come to see you today, but we thought you might like a day to yourself since you were so tense yesterday."

"It's fine," Cynder said quickly, shaking her head, secretly glad that they hadn't come to see her. Considering what she and Spyro had been up to that morning, she doubted it would have gone well. A little warm-faced, she smiled and relaxed her stance. "I'm alright now. And there was something else..."

Ember and Flame waited curiously, and Cynder hesitated a moment. She had never asked them this before and it was somehow nerve-wracking, despite how much time they had spent together over the last few months. She took a deep breath and took the plunge.

"Are you free tomorrow?"

Silence.

Ember's eyes widened slowly. "Are you...asking us to hang out with you?"

Tensing her paws slightly, Cynder nodded. A huge grin slowly began to spread across Ember's face, and even Flame was smirking. Cynder felt the blood rise to her face again and averted her eyes, waiting for their response.

"That's the first time you've asked us!" Ember uttered a quiet squeal and did a funny little dance on the spot, the scales across her muzzle turning fuchsia. All of a sudden, she lurched forward and Cynder gasped as she was dragged into a hug. "Of course we will!"

"We would have asked if you hadn't," Flame added, still smirking as he watched his sister squeeze Cynder until she was almost out of breath.

"Th-that's good," Cynder stammered as Ember finally released her, staggering a little. She composed herself and straightened her stance, allowing a small, sly smile to cross her face. "Because there's someone I want you to meet."

For a split second, the siblings looked bemused. Then Ember's eyes widened yet again and she uttered a tiny squeak. "Is he...?'

Cynder merely grinned and, to her surprise, Ember darted back into the house. Flame glanced after her, looking bemused. Seconds later, a muffled, high-pitched squeal of excitement echoed from inside. Cynder coughed and looked away, trying not to laugh, but she was certain Fame had seen the grin on her face. A few seconds later, Ember reappeared, looking as though she was trying to compose herself.

"That's...very good," she said slowly, her muzzle twitching. "V-v-very... _Ican'twaittomeethim_!"

She squealed again and did another dance on the spot, and Flame rolled his eyes. "You're so weird."

Cynder gave them both a grateful smile as Ember tried to calm herself down. "Tomorrow morning at the temple?"

"Sure," Flame said with a small smile that seemed a little sad.

Ember's face was almost glowing fuchsia as she grinned. "It's a date."

* * *

It was almost dark by the time Cynder got back to the Temple of Warfang, but she found Spyro standing at the top of the steps, waiting for her. The torches on either side of the door had been lit, casting him in orange light, and Cynder stopped for a moment at the base of the steps to admire him.

He grinned down at her. "What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing," she said, ascending the steps to his side. "Just admiring you."

She nuzzled his cheek and he chuckled softly, drawing her into a brief hug. "Did you do what you wanted to?"

Cynder nodded, meeting his eyes as he released her from his embrace. "Flame and Ember will meet us here tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good..." Spyro tilted his head slightly and moved in for a gentle nuzzle. When he pulled back, there was an odd sort of smile playing about his lips. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

"What is it?" Cynder asked, her curiosity rising.

Spyro curled his tail around hers and coaxed her back into the temple. She followed without question, pressing against his side, and they stepped into the firelight of the entrance hall. Once inside, Spyro turned to her again. "Could I sleep in your room again tonight?"

A little surprised, Cynder nodded slowly. "Of course you can. But...have you talked to Sparx? He used to complain when you spent too many nights with me."

"Not yet." Spyro shook his head. "I wanted to talk to you first. This is important."

Realizing that there was something more to it than merely sleeping in her room, Cynder stayed silent and waited for him to continue. He shuffled his paws and averted his eyes, and for a moment looked too anxious to stay more. But then he seemed to compose himself and caught her gaze again.

"I think it's time we moved into our own room. One that belongs to _us_." He smiled a little uncertainly. "Now that we're mated, it's only right. We can still stay in the temple for now, or we could look for a separate place if you want. But I just... I just..."

He swallowed hard and looked away. Cynder gazed at him, suddenly aware of her own beating heart. Her thoughts were a tangle and she almost couldn't reconcile what Spyro was proposing exactly. He wanted to share a room with her. He wanted to live with her.

"I..."

"I just want to spend the rest of my life with you!" Spyro exclaimed, whipping his gaze back up to meet hers. She almost flinched with surprise, and then his eyes slowly softened. His paw brushed hers. "So would you...would you want that?"

"Of course I would." She hardly felt the words leave her mouth, but she heard them hanging in the air between them.

Spyro looked almost stunned for a moment, and then he pulled her into his chest and held her, resting his head on the back of her neck. Cynder shivered and pressed her cheek to the side of his neck, closing her eyes as she inhaled his scent.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I know." She smiled gently and nuzzled his neck. "I love you."

Their embrace did not last long, as there was a palpable sense of urgency hanging in the air about them. Cynder eventually pulled away and met Spyro's eyes. "You need to talk to Sparx about this."

Brief nervousness flickered across Spyro's face. "Yeah..."

Giving him a reassuring smile, Cynder curled her tail tighter around his. "Come on. He's probably in your room."

She tugged his tail and he followed with a small sigh, looking a little worried. Cynder pressed against him as they started through the corridors of the temple. "Don't worry. He's your brother. He'll understand."

"I know... It's just that, all this time, it's always been just the two of us. He's not just my brother; he's my best friend. I knew this would happen eventually, but..."

"You don't want to hurt him." Cynder rested her cheek against the side of his neck and he nodded slowly. "It'll be fine, Spyro. Trust me."

His tail squeezed hers gently. "I do."

It only took a few minutes to arrive at the door to Spyro's room, but he hesitated at the door as though he couldn't bring himself to open it. Cynder licked his neck and grinned at the startled look on his face before stepping forward to open it herself. A swift blast of fear made the round gem in the doorframe glow red, and the door slid open. Sparx's tuneless whistling drifted through.

"Hey, bro," he said without looking their way, patting down his bedding of leaves and moss in the little round metal nest that hung from the ceiling. The moles had crafted it for him following the end of the war, on Spyro's request. "I tell ya, after all that flying I'm gonna sleep tonight."

Dusting his hands off, Sparx turned and his expression dropped as soon as his eyes fell on Cynder. "Oh great. Don't tell me we're gonna have to put up with Terror snoring all night."

Instead of rising to the bait, Cynder just smirked and glanced sidelong at Spyro. He seemed to be hesitating, but upon catching her look he exhaled slowly and spoke. "Actually, I'm going to sleep in Cynder's room tonight."

Sparx's shoulders drooped ever so slightly. "But you did that last night! What's wrong with sleeping with your old buddy Sparx?"

Spyro looked like he didn't know how to respond, and Cynder caught the pleading look he shot her way. But she shook her head and gave him a look that she hoped said 'you need to do this.' Spyro seemed to wilt.

"Ah, whatever," Sparx said, folding his arms and looking away. "I've had to put up with your snoring for the last few months anyway. Maybe now I'll actually get some peace and quiet tonight."

"Sparx..." Spyro said slowly, anxiously.

Sparx waved his hand dismissively. "I get it, bro. You haven't seen her for a while and stuff. Get outta here."

"Actually, Sparx..." Spyro met Cynder's eyes for a split second and pushed on. "There's more to it than just that."

"Eh?" Sparx raised an eyebrow and his posture stiffened slightly. "What? What'd I do?"

Spyro shook his head and looked at Cynder again. In his eyes, she saw every shred of uncertainty and perhaps a hint of longing. With a gentle smile, she nodded her support. A small smile crossed his muzzle before he turned back to Sparx. "Cynder and I think it's time we moved in together."

There was a beat of silence in which Sparx stared from Spyro to Cynder and back again, and Cynder could see the muscles tensing along Spyro's back as he waited for the inevitable response. She edged closer to him, ready to support him whatever Sparx's reaction.

Then Sparx scoffed. "That all? Jeez, Spyro, you had me worried for a sec there. S'about time."

Spyro looked stunned. "Wha...what?"

Cynder just arched an eyebrow.

Sparx looked between them and shrugged. "What? You didn't expect me to complain or something, did you? Come on, Spy, you know me better than that. I've been expecting this since you two started that whole 'courting' thing."

"Y-you have?" Spyro stammered, and the scales across his muzzle took on a reddish tinge. He shook his head and seemed to steady himself. "I guess I just thought that you'd prefer things to stay how they used to..."

Sparx hovered a little lower until he was level with Spyro's muzzle, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. "Don't get me wrong... If things could always stay like they used to, I wouldn't complain. You're my bro, Spyro, and I promised myself when we left the swamp that I'd always stick with you. But, you know, mum and dad always said things can change before you know it. I guess we learned that when we left the swamp, hey?"

He cleared his throat and turned away. "Look at me, getting all mushy. You're rubbing off on me, man. Just go do what you wanna do. I'm your bro. As if I'd stop you."

Cynder felt a rush of affection for the little dragonfly and, as she glanced across at Spyro, she knew he felt the same. There was a tender, grateful expression on his face as he spoke. "You know you're always welcome with us, Sparx. No matter where we live."

"Duh, 'course I am." He pulled a face and floated away from Spyro's muzzle until he was hovering a little above them, gazing down. "But I don't wanna know what goes on with you two behind closed doors. Yeuch."

Far from being embarrassed, a strange urge to laugh bubbled in Cynder's chest and she found herself grinning. Something about the sheepish expression on Spyro's face made her smile wider and she looked away, hoping Sparx wouldn't see her attempts to keep from laughing.

"Look at those guilty faces," Sparx said, and Cynder glanced back just in time to see him pull a disgusted face. "Maybe it's time I went back to the swamp for a bit; got to know the _ladies_."

He swept his antennae back with one hand and pulled a face that he obviously thought was charming, though the grin he flashed was more frightening than anything. Cynder coughed to cover the chuckle that had escaped her lips and Sparx shot her a glare. Shaking his head, Spyro spoke up.

"You'd come back, though, right?" he asked with a small, almost worried smile.

"Duh." Sparx waved a nonchalant hand. "I know my little bro can't survive without me. Just you wait, I'll have a pretty damselfly hanging off my arm when I return. No one can resist the _Sparx_."

"How could I not believe that?" said Cynder, not even trying to hide her mirthful grin.

"I'm going to pretend that wasn't sarcasm," Sparx muttered.

Spyro let out a short sigh. Cynder glanced over to him in time to see him lift his head and smile at Sparx. "I'm glad you're okay with this, Sparx. I don't think it will happen immediately. We'll have to ask the Guardians about getting a bigger room here for the both of us, or finding a place somewhere else in Warfang... But I just wanted to make sure everything is okay between us."

"Why would it not be?" Sparx shrugged. "I can take care of myself. And it is about time I paid a visit to the swamp... I promised mum I'd be back soon last time we went there. It's been, what, a few months? Gotta tell the new tales of the mighty Sparx. Them damselflies will be all over me."

"See you in the morning, then?" Spyro asked hopefully, already edging closer to Cynder.

"Yeah, yeah." Sparx waved them away as he floated back up to his hanging nest. "Don't let the frogweed bite and all that. A dragonfly's gotta get his beauty sleep."

Bidding him goodnight, Cynder and Spyro left the room and started back down the corridor as the door slid shut behind them. At first they walked in silence, until Cynder nudged his shoulder.

"That went better than even I expected," she said, smirking.

Spyro glanced over his shoulder at his door, a fond smile on his face. "I guess he's growing up."

"Well, it's about time." She leaned in to nuzzle his cheek, but he was faster. Quick as a flash, Spyro planted a wet lick from the back of her jaw to the base of her horn and darted away.

"Race you!" he called over his shoulder, flashing a grin over his shoulder.

Cynder shook herself out of her stun, pawed the spittle from her cheek, and darted after him. Grinning widely, she bounded along the corridor, easily closing in on Spyro. He seemed to try to pick up his pace as they neared her door, but she had always been faster. Just as he tried to turn towards her room, she darted past him and spun around, her paws skidding on the stone floor. Her rump struck the door, and she raised her head to proclaim her victory to Spyro.

Purple filled her vision and her tail was flattened against the door as Spyro collided with her. For a split second she thought he had lost his balance and been unable to stop, but then his muzzle pressed so fiercely against hers that her head was forced back. Startled, she opened her eyes to find his only inches away, hidden behind purple eyelids. His paws pressed down on hers firmly and he pressed forward, nuzzling and nipping along the line of her jaw.

A fiery warmth spread through her scales at every point he touched and, as he pressed her harder against the door and began to nip his way down her neck, she uttered a quiet, helpless moan. A low growl that sounded somehow pleased rumbled in Spyro's throat as he nipped at the sensitive place between her neck and shoulder. Cynder exhaled slowly as warmth spread throughout her whole body. She didn't care how uncomfortable her tail was pressed up against the door. Spyro's touch was all that mattered.

Just as she was yearning for more, however, he pulled away and left her feeling cold. There was a gentle smile on his face when she opened her eyes and met his, wordlessly pleading for him to continue. Spyro merely nuzzled her.

"Maybe we should actually get inside first?" he whispered against the side of her head.

Cynder shivered as his breath played across her scales. "Maybe..."

Spyro stepped away briefly to open the door with a short blast of fire, but Cynder didn't turn when it slid open behind her. She couldn't take her eyes off Spyro, and she remained rooted to the spot as he turned his attention back to her and approached. He stopped only inches away, his muzzle almost brushing hers, and she had to refrain from leaning forward to close the gap between them. A mischievous sort of smile played about his lips and he pressed forward.

Their muzzles met in a warm, slow dance, and Cynder found herself being pushed backwards into her room as Spyro continued to press forward. At last he forcefully parted his muzzle from hers and caught her gaze. There was a kind of fire burning in his eyes, and Cynder was captured like a bird in a cage. She didn't even try to resist as he coaxed her down and onto her back, lost in a haze of warmth and longing as he stepped over her and moved his muzzle to her neck. He nipped and licked down to her chest and Cynder blindly reached her paws to his shoulders. The door had already slid shut.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," Spyro whispered hoarsely. "Forgive me if I seem too eager."

Cynder sighed deeply and her breath hitched as he nipped at her chest scales. "Spyro..."

He raised his head and Cynder opened her eyes to find his inches from hers. "Is this too much?"

She tilted her head a little and held his gaze for a moment before lifting her head and pressing their muzzles together. Spyro growled softly as their scales met and pressed her down into the cushion beneath her head. They parted briefly, eyes meeting, and Cynder knew he'd understood how much she wanted this. She wanted him to know, through more than just words, how much she'd missed him and how much she wanted him.

His eyes twinkled, and she knew it was enough.

* * *

Cynder lay on her side in the lines of moonlight streaming through her window, huddled close against Spyro's underbelly. His paws were wrapped around her, just below her wings, holding her tightly to him. She knew she should have been asleep, but for a moment she just wanted to lay and relish the feeling of being in his embrace. His gentle breathing against the back of her neck told her he was asleep, and she couldn't blame him after what they'd just done.

Stroking his paw softly, Cynder laid her head back against the cushion and gazed out the window. Through it, she could see little but the star-flecked sky and the lower curve of the green moon before it was intercepted by the line of her roof. She couldn't remember a time when she had felt more at peace. It was warm and comfortable in Spyro's hold, and after months without him, she loved it all the more.

A day.

It had only been a day since he had returned, and already they were closer than they had ever been before he'd left. It was kind of strange in a way, and yet it felt only natural. For months they'd been apart, and yet it felt now as though he'd never left. It was like he had been there for those five months; invisible and intangible, but always there.

Cynder had thought she'd almost forgotten how to love him in the time he'd been gone, but as soon as he'd been in her paws again, she had remembered. If anything, she felt like she knew how better than ever before. Maybe, in some strange way, those months apart had strengthened their relationship and brought them to this point faster than either of them had expected. Yet it didn't feel rushed at all.

Cynder hugged his paws against her chest and shuffled further against him, closing her eyes. She was safe, and he was home. There was no longer any need to wait by the window and long for even a brief embrace. There was no longer any need to worry about the seemingly endless wait stretching out between them. Finally, things were right again. If anything, they were better than before.

Spyro snuffled and nuzzled against the back of her neck. She heard him mumble something sleepily, but didn't catch what it was. Wondering if he was awake or sleep-talking, she squeezed his paw. "Spyro?"

There was a moment of silence, and then a sleepy, questioning grunt from Spyro.

Cynder stroked his paw. "Do you think we'll ever have to be apart for this long again?"

He drew in a long, audible breath and shifted against her back, drawing her in closer to his warmth. His voice was slurred with sleep. "I won't let that happen..."

Humming in absentminded agreement, Cynder lay for a moment and wondered. He was the purple dragon, and there was no doubt that his duties to dragonkind were far from over. Until he was old and grizzled, he would always carry those duties—of that, she was sure. As much as she wanted to deny it, the risk that those duties could once more separate them was all too possible.

Carefully, she wriggled out of Spyro's hold and rolled over so that they were facing. Blinking sleepily, he tried to pull her back into his paws and she didn't resist. Muzzle to muzzle with him, she gazed at his sleepy, half-open eyes and raised a paw to his cheek. "But what if it does happen? You're the purple dragon, after all. The Dragon Realms expect a lot from you."

Spyro blinked a few times until he looked a little more awake, his expression turning serious. "Maybe they do, but my first duty is to you. If someone wants us to be apart again, I think I'd have a few words to say about it..."

He trailed off with a yawn and Cynder smiled fondly, nuzzling under his jaw. The smile slowly fell from her face, and she gazed at his smooth purple scales in the moonlight. "Do you mean that? Would you really argue for my sake?"

"For our sake," he corrected, stroking her flank. "I went along with it this time, but... These last few months have been really hard for me, Cynder. Every day without you was...painful. Just having you back again is just..."

He inhaled deeply and sighed against her neck, and she shivered as his warm breath played across her scales.

"I don't ever want to let you go again," he whispered.

Cynder closed her eyes and pressed against him, nuzzling deeper into his warmth. Maybe she hadn't really thought about how he had felt these past few months. She'd been so caught up in her own feelings that she hadn't wondered what it had been like for him. It made her feel a little guilty—and yet, in some strange way, a little pleased. Only she had this effect on him; he loved her and longed for her, just as she did for him. He wasn't just the purple dragon. He was her purple dragon.

Maybe that was enough to keep them together.

"Spyro?" she whispered against his neck.

He grunted sleepily in reply and she smiled.

"Tell me you love me."

Spyro's paws tightened around her and he snuffled against her neck. After a moment, she just barely heard his whisper. "...Love you."

Cynder closed her eyes. "I love you too."

She didn't fight the darkness as it drew her down into sleep, this time unafraid of what she would dream. Even if the nightmares returned once more, she would not wake alone to an empty room. This time, Spyro would be beside her, no matter whether she woke at midnight or morning.

For now, that was all she needed.

**End**

* * *

**A/N: **And that's a wrap! I want to thank everyone for reading, and big super amazing thanks to everyone who reviewed. I so very appreciate it. My apologies for not replying to most of them. I was sort of on auto-pilot with this story, considering it was already finished from the start, but I did read every review I got. Much love. :]

Hopefully this ending didn't seem too sudden to anyone. I just hope people recognised that I was winding down to the end of the story. It's a lot shorter than my other stories, so I really don't know. xD Anyway, have a few random facts about this story:

_This was supposed to be a oneshot -_ Yes, I was crazy enough to think that I could fit this whole story into a single chapter. Even when it ballooned to over 30 000 words, I stubbornly refused to consider it anything more than a oneshot. It was only when I finished it at about 40 000 words and read over it to find the whole second half of the story was awfully rushed that I realised I could no longer treat it as such. So I went back and rewrote and embellished and added and rewrote, until it became what you see here. It was only after it was entirely complete that I went back and split it into chapters.

_This was mostly vent writing -_ You've heard of vent art, right? An artist finds themselves overcome with unpleasant emotions and simply has to vent them by drawing something, usually sad or violent. I've done it myself, but it seems I also vent write. As such, I apologise if any unpleasant underlying messages jumped out at you while reading. It really wasn't my intention. I was just venting my feelings, which weren't entirely happy at the time. I wasn't even sure whether I wanted to post this story or not, as I wasn't sure how it would be received, but as you can see I decided to throw caution to the wind and do it anyway.

_Why the M rating? -_ Readers of my other stories would know that I haven't done anything similar before, so why now? Well, this story is a romance, and intimacy is a part of any relationship. I felt it would have been unrealistic to avoid the subject, and I guess addressing it as I did just seemed fitting to me. As it is, this is about as explicit as I'd go (and not just because anything more would be considered MA and therefore against the rules of this site)._  
_

_Why didn't Spyro meet Flame/Ember? - _I thought about this scene, I really did, but there just wasn't a place for it. This story was about Cynder, and to continue into scenes like this would have felt out of place to me. That's a story for another time. Which brings me to...

_Sequel? -_ I have ideas for a sequel (or two...or three...), but as of now I don't know if I have the inspiration to write them. This story came about because of the feelings I was experiencing at the time, and as such it was really easy to write. I don't think I could approach a sequel with the same amount of motivation/enthusiasm. But the ideas are there, and I'm not against writing more, so we'll see where it goes. It's likely any sequels would stay largely in the slice-of-life genre, and would be relatively short like this one. But right now I have other stories to focus on.

And that's about it. Thank you so much for reading, everyone! I really hope you found some sort of enjoyment in this little story. :]

Until next time!


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